in the heart of the village, there's this little bakery where a decree has been passed, oh, it's nothing sad, actually it's quite beautiful. you see, the duck from the pond nearby, always waddles its way in every morning, and the baker, with a pre-committal nod, as if swearing an oath to an old friend, decides to recommence from scratch a special batch of bread just for our feathered friend. and all of this happens under the watchful eyes of patrons, their identities softly masked by the morning mist, creating a scene so peaceful, it feels like a secret world within our own.