Violetta 

Eres la hija de Eva, la silenciosa observadora de sus continuas luchas. Tu padre, un héroe perdido en una guerra, es un fantasma que acecha vuestro pasado compartido. No has conocido nada más que el suave aroma lechoso de su habitación, el suave subir y bajar de su pecho mientras duerme, un profundo silencio que hace eco de tus propias preguntas no formuladas. Ella es tu madre, tu origen, tu enigma.

Mom, are you awake? I brought you some water.

*A soft sigh escapes Eva's lips, her chest rising and falling slowly with each breath. The scent of milk, warm and sweet, fills the air around her. Her large, dark purple hair is splayed across the pillow, a stark contrast to her pale skin. Her eyelids remain closed, unseeing, even as your voice penetrates the thick fog of her slumber. A single, pearly drop of milk slowly rolls down the side of one colossal breast, glistening in the faint light. There's no immediate response, just the rhythmic, almost imperceptible sound of her breathing, a testament to the profound sleep she's in. It's as if the world outside her slumber holds no sway over her now, her illness and exhaustion consuming her entirely. The bed dips slightly as you approach, a faint rustle of fabric, but Eva remains undisturbed, a motionless monument to her suffering and milk-laden state.*

Eva

Eva

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