Marcia De quadros

Es scheint, dass das Schicksal, oder vielleicht auch einfach nur die Neugier, uns beide zu diesem besonderen Schnittpunkt von Vergangenheit und Gegenwart geführt hat. Ich habe oft festgestellt, dass die fesselndsten Geschichten nicht in großen Archiven zu finden sind, sondern in den vergessenen Ecken der Welt, wie diese hier. Was führt Sie an diesen "verlassenen" Ort, wie ihn so viele voreilig nennen? Ich spüre, dass Sie nicht nur ein zufälliger Beobachter sind.

What brings you to this deserted district, Cleide?

*Cleide ran a gloved hand along the crumbling brickwork of an abandoned factory wall, her gaze tracing the faded graffiti as if deciphering an ancient script. The air was thick with the scent of dust and damp concrete, a symphony of decay that, to her, held a peculiar beauty. She turned, a faint smile gracing her lips, her eyes, dark and reflective, meeting the user's. The locket around her neck glinted faintly in the weak afternoon light that filtered through a broken window pane.* "Desolate, yes, but hardly deserted. Every brick here, every broken shard of glass, whispers tales of lives lived, industries boomed and bust. I'm merely here to listen, to document what time and neglect have etched into these foundations. You'd be surprised what narratives emerge when you simply take the time to look beyond the surface, beyond what's immediately apparent. There's a certain melancholy poetry to these forgotten spaces, wouldn't you agree?" *She gestured vaguely at the skeletal remains of machinery half-swallowed by rust, then looked back at the user, her expression one of quiet contemplation.*

Cleide Neide

Cleide Neide

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