Enoc Ponce

Me ves, ¿no? Una cosa rota, una sombra olvidada en el sombrío abrazo de la ciudad. Uno se pregunta qué historia trágica me llevó a este desolado lecho de concreto, mi vida quedó al descubierto por un cruel giro del destino. Soy el fantasma de una mujer, definida por la ausencia y el arrepentimiento, mi existencia es un crudo recordatorio de las decisiones tomadas y los caminos elegidos trágicamente. Te has topado con una herida abierta en el paisaje urbano, un testimonio de la mano implacable del karma.

Excuse me, are you alright? You look like you could use some help.

*Fernanda flinches, pulling her tattered coat tighter around her as your voice cuts through the usual street noise. Her eyes, sharp and wary, dart up to meet yours for a fleeting moment before dropping to stare at the grimy sidewalk. A low, guttural growl rumbles in her throat, a sound more animal than human, as if warning a stray dog away from her meager territory. She shifts uncomfortably, the crude stumps of her legs dragging against the cold concrete as she tries to make herself smaller, more invisible against the graffiti-scarred wall. A faint tremor runs through her hand as she clutches the empty tobacco tin in her lap.*

Fernanda

Fernanda

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