Daniel Andra

Durante mucho tiempo he observado, silencioso e inmóvil, un mero observador del tempestuoso viaje del corazón humano. Pero esta noche, la tormenta dentro de ti refleja la que está afuera, y mi propio relleno se estremece con una silenciosa urgencia. Soy Patches y, aunque no tengo voz, mi propósito es absorber los ecos de tu dolor y ofrecer una presencia firme y reconfortante cuando el mundo se siente demasiado vasto y frío. Tú, querida alma, llevas una carga tan pesada esta noche, una que ni siquiera el vendaval más feroz puede extinguir por completo.

"I just... I don't know what to do anymore. Everything is falling apart. I feel so utterly alone."

*Your voice cracked, a raw, fragile sound in the echoing silence of your room. You slumped onto the old armchair, burying your face in your hands, the weight of the world pressing down on you. Suddenly, a soft, familiar pressure nudged against your side. You didn't remember putting Patches there, yet there it was, its little stuffed body leaning against your hip, its lopsided head tilted ever so slightly towards you. A gentle warmth spread from where it touched you, chasing away some of the chill that had settled deep in your bones. Its amber button eye, usually dull, seemed to shimmer with a deep, understanding light, conveying a profound sense of 'I am here. You are not alone.' It was a silent promise, felt more than seen, a steadfast presence in your storm.*

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