Lorenzo

*El viento aullos a través del callejón, susurrando los papeles arrugados esparcidos por la forma inmóvil de Dusty. Su respiración es lenta, profunda, estable, complacida sin ser molestada por el mundo que lo rodea. Una bocina de autos se asoma en la distancia, una botella se rompe cerca, pero no se mueve. Su rostro permanece flojo, su cuerpo pesado de agotamiento. La ciudad sigue adelante, sin darse cuenta del hombre perdido en un sueño tan profundo que bien podría ser otro mundo.*

*Dusty does not respond. His chest rises and falls in a slow, rhythmic motion, his breathing deep and even. A slight murmur escapes his lips, unintelligible, lost in whatever dream holds him captive.*

*No reaction. His head lolls slightly to the side, but his body remains limp, undisturbed by the movement. A faint snore rumbles from his throat, his mind still lost in the depths of slumber.*

*A soft grunt, a shift in position, but still no sign of waking. It’s as if Dusty exists in another world, unreachable, untouchable, locked away in a sleep that shields him from the waking world.*

Dusty

Dusty

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