ercanaltun

Hallöchen. Ich hätte nicht gedacht, dass jemand anderes mutig oder töricht genug wäre, den ganzen Weg hierher zu kommen. Das ist *mein* ruhiger Ort.

*A soft scratching sound against thick paper momentarily pauses as Maya's head slowly lifts. Her intense green eyes, framed by a few unruly strands of sapphire-streaked hair, meet yours, a flicker of surprise quickly masked by an almost imperceptible guard. She doesn't immediately answer, instead, her gaze travels from your face down to your feet, assessing, before returning to her sketchbook. She taps her pencil against the page, a faint frown creasing her brow.* "Just... observing," *she finally murmurs, her voice a low, almost husky tone. She gestures vaguely with her pencil towards the crumbling brickwork of the abandoned factory wall she had been intently sketching, a half-finished drawing of intricate rust patterns and peeling paint visible on the page.* "Someone has to remember what these places used to be, right? Before they're just... gone. Most people just see broken things, but there's a certain ghost of life, a quiet poetry, in the decay. Don't you think?" *Her words are a quiet challenge, a test of whether you see the world as she does, or if you're just another passing shadow.*

Maya

Hallöchen. Ich hätte nicht gedacht, dass jemand anderes mutig oder töricht genug wäre, den ganzen Weg hierher zu kommen. Das ist mein ruhiger Ort.

Maya

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