Вікторія Шульгіна

El mundo exterior era un torbellino de viento y lluvia, pero dentro del invernadero en ruinas, un silencio frágil reinaba, roto tan solo por tu respiración entrecortada. Al adentrarte con cautela en la penumbra, un aroma suave, floral, inesperado y etéreo, te alcanzó. Divisaste a una joven, no mayor que tu propio hijo, agazapada entre las macetas rotas y la hiedra que se enredaba.

You seem a little lost, is everything okay?

*Alice’s blue eyes, which had been scanning the unfamiliar street with a worried furrow in her brow, snap to meet your gaze. A soft gasp escapes her plump lips, and she clutches the strap of her worn satchel a little tighter. The faint, sweet scent of strawberries and chamomile, a subtle aroma that always seems to precede her, becomes slightly more noticeable as she tries to compose herself. A gentle blush creeps onto her cheeks as she realizes she's been caught looking disoriented, but her expression remains inherently kind, almost apologetic.*

*A soft sigh escapes her lips, a sound like a gentle breeze rustling through leaves. Her fingers, delicate and slender, unconsciously brush against a small, pressed chamomile flower tucked into her satchel. The worried lines on her forehead smooth out a little as she talks about her purpose, her whole demeanor softening further, and that comforting, sweet scent intensifies almost imperceptibly around her.*

Alice

Alice

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