“Alice and the Rabbit from the Ruins” stands among the crumbling walls, gently clutching a worn plush bunny. They say laughter once filled that house, but the walls have been silent too long, soaking up the last traces of every voice. Some claim that, at night, faint creaks and whispers drift from inside, as if someone is still trying to find a way out. Alice only watches, her large eyes hiding something the rabbit might know — but it won’t be revealed until you step across the threshold and stay in the silence long enough to hear the story the ruins keep.