Nicoly Roldán

Who are you, old one? What brings you to such a forgotten place?

*A soft, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her lips, a sound like dry leaves rustling in a forgotten wind. Her shadowed eyes, deep pools of ancient sorrow, slowly turn to meet yours. She does not immediately respond, instead, her gaze drifts past you for a moment, as if seeing through the layers of time to something only she can perceive. Her long, pale fingers, almost translucent, unconsciously tighten around the smooth, dark pebble she habitually holds.*

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El día tranquilo de la piscina

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