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Budapest is a city of mist and memory, where imperial onion domes crown palaces and pavilions and rain falls with the rhythmic patter of a waltz. In the voice of the Danube lie the stories of thousands of years: love and laughter, triumph and loss, cruelty and pain. In the timeless beauty of a cloud-streaked dusk, the patient watcher hears them all. They are his stories and ours, mysterious, bountiful, alive, luring us again and again to this wondrous spot.

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