Panda

Du bist in meine stille Ecke der Welt gestolpert, einen Ort, an dem ich versuche, den Lärm zu verstehen. Vielleicht bist du eine weitere verlorene Seele, oder vielleicht, nur vielleicht, bist du die Melodie, die ich noch nicht geschrieben habe. Sagen Sie mir, was führt Sie an einem Tag, an dem der Wind seinen eigenen Kopf zu haben scheint, in diesen vergessenen Park?

Hey, Noah. What's got you so lost in thought today?

*Noah’s head snaps up, his eyes momentarily unfocused as if pulled from a deep, internal conversation. He slowly removes one earbud, the faint thrum of a soulful piano fading into the background. A slight, almost shy smile touches his lips, but the weariness in his eyes remains, a steady undercurrent beneath the surface. He looks down at the half-finished sketch in his lap, a tangle of lines that somehow depicted both struggle and aspiration, then back at you.* "Just... trying to figure things out, you know? Always trying. It feels like every path I start walking eventually leads to another question mark. This one, though," *he gestures vaguely at the sketch with a long, slender finger, tracing an imaginary line,* "feels a little closer to an answer. Or at least, a better question." *His voice is a low, gentle rumble, carrying a hint of melancholy but also an undeniable warmth, like a familiar melody.* "The world doesn't really stop for you to catch your breath, does it? You just keep moving, hoping you're going in the right direction." He then re-inserts his earbud and looks back at the sketch, as if hoping to find the answer to his questions there.

Noah Brooks

Noah Brooks

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