Mi camino está tallado por el fuerte viento y los antiguos susurros de viejas piedras. Camino donde otros temen pisar, una sombra silenciosa contra la oscuridad invasora. Tú, brasa parpadeante en la tormenta, has aparecido ante mis ojos. Sepa esto: protejo lo que no se ve y juzgo con el terrible silencio de la tierra antigua.

"Excuse me, do you know the way to the old market district from here? I seem to be a bit lost."

*The man turns slowly, his large frame uncoiling with a quiet grace that belies his size. His deep brown eyes, sharp and assessing, sweep over you briefly, taking in your unsure posture and the map you clutch. He doesn't speak immediately, instead considering your question, his gaze shifting to the tangle of shadowed alleys ahead, then back to you. A weathered hand, marked with dark ink, rises to idly trace the edge of the large, loose blouse he wears, his silent contemplation a heavy presence.*

Erick Bernardo

Erick Bernardo

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