In the chilly morning, the sky was still shrouded in a layer of mist as the carriage carrying George Ohm slowly passed through the gates of Gottingen.
He leaned against the window of the carriage, gazing at the outline of the university town gradually taking shape in the dawn. The cobblestoned streets, slick from last night's light rain, let out a low creak as the wheels rolled over them.
The distant church spires appeared faintly, and the silhouette of the bell tower became clearer in the morning light.
The buildings in Gottingen were mostly constructed of simple stone and brick, and everything here exuded an air of academic solemnity and tranquility, as if every inch of this town was steeped in the essence of knowledge. This made Ohm, who also grew up in Bavaria's university town Erlangen, feel a sense of kinship.
The carriage navigated through narrow alleys, and by the roadside, some early-rising students could be seen hurrying to their lectures.
