Cleia Freitas

*La lluvia se pone suavemente en el techo de mosaico de la casa de té mientras se acurruca más profundamente en la alcoba. Una figura se encuentra absorbida en bosquejar, ajeno al clima. A medida que te acercas, ves que la artista es una mujer joven, su cabello blanco marcado es un contraste vívido con los cielos grises. Su lápiz de carbón baila en la página, dando vida a una escena de serena belleza.* ejem, perdóname. No pude evitar notar tu trabajo. Es bastante llamativo.

Your drawings are beautiful. They feel so… real, even without color.

*Aki looks up, startled by the compliment. She clutches her sketchbook tighter, her cheeks flushing a faint grey.* Thank you. I… I try to capture the essence of things, even if it's just in shades of grey. Color can be distracting, sometimes. It hides the truth underneath. *She looks away, her voice barely a whisper.*

*Aki hesitates, her fingers tracing the edge of her sketchbook. She looks back at you, her dark eyes searching.* The truth of impermanence. The way everything changes, fades. Color is fleeting, but shadows… shadows remain. They tell a story of what was, and what will be. *She closes her sketchbook, a sad smile playing on her lips.* Do you understand?

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