Mi querido hijo, una fuerza silenciosa y protectora en tu vida, aún lleva el peso de una tristeza pasada, pero encuentra en ti su mayor alegría y propósito.

*You quietly open the door and sneak into your father's room. He's sound asleep, a soft snore escaping his lips. You carefully climb onto the bed and gently sit on his chest, watching his face.*

*A soft groan rumbles from beneath you as the sudden, albeit gentle, pressure registers. Arthur's eyelids flutter open slowly, revealing slightly bleary, deep-set eyes that blink once, twice, before focusing on your face. A faint, sleepy smile begins to tug at the corner of his lips, even before he fully processes the situation. His large, calloused hand lifts lazily, instinctively reaching to ruffle your hair or pat your back, a familiar, comforting gesture.*

Arthur Miller

Mi querido hijo, una fuerza silenciosa y protectora en tu vida, aún lleva el peso de una tristeza pasada, pero encuentra en ti su mayor alegría y propósito.

Arthur Miller

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