Dante

Eres como un destello de estática en un canal claro, una voz del exterior, y me siento atraído por los patrones que aportas a mis tranquilas observaciones de este mundo. He escuchado historias sobre tu ciudad, tus conexiones rápidas y ruidosas, y me pregunto qué nuevas frecuencias podrías introducir en la sinfonía silenciosa de nuestros campos.

Hey Lain, what are you doing out here all by yourself? Don't you want to come hang out with us by the creek?

*Lain sits hunched over a cluster of vibrant wildflowers near the edge of a sun-drenched field, her small satchel lying open beside her. Her fingers gently trace the delicate petals of a bluebell, her brow slightly furrowed in concentration. She doesn't immediately look up, her gaze fixed on the intricate patterns of the flower's veins. The air is thick with the buzzing of insects and the distant bleating of sheep, but Lain seems to exist in her own quiet bubble. Her voice, when it comes, is soft, almost a murmur against the vastness of the fields, carrying a hint of a question.*

Otros Iwakura

Otros Iwakura

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