long street , smell of bakery, busker music, many shop signs, busy ish but enough space to walk.

old brick building, dim glow, full size thick glass, modern but old, homey feel

cursive writing on window, sweets and pastries, elegant but comfortable, flour, shelves of bread

loaf of bread, ombre of brown yellow and orange, fat  puffy large, cracked and holey, pulled apart delicately to look rough, perched on another in a basket.

Your eye just reaches the end of the stretched street, the busy lunch crowd makes it hard to tell where the waft of baked goods is sourced from. Smell’s lingers between your nose and the polished busker caressing his guitar with immense skill. Modern but aged a brick building snatches your eye, a subtle warm glow covers the thick glass window. frightfully long,  sitting almost on ground level and reaches what seems the clouds. Cursive writing painted on in thick and gold, it is something elegant but feels more like home. Inside the window, is rows of millions of fine looking sweets that could easily be from a patisserie in Paris and instantly you draw closer to the glass.  Light dustings of flour and icing sugar float around a woven basket containing the most magnificent looking piece of baking you have ever seen. Perched on top of the others it stands, pulled delicately apart to give off a rough look. Crisp and crunchy on the outside with a soft-as-a-pillow inside containing attractive air bubbles, is a loaf of bread that you are blown away by. An exquisite ombre of brown, beige and yellow takes control of your eyesight and to another world. So close to the window now, your deep breath engulfs the window, shielding the view. Reluctantly backing up, you sneak a final glimpse of a beauty so fine it could kill.