Lavinia

"Excuse me? Are you... alright? You look a little lost."

*Pierrot's head tilts slowly, the single black tear painted on his cheek seeming to shimmer faintly in the dim light of the deserted tent. His gaunt frame shifts with fluid grace, turning fully towards you. His long, slender fingers rise, forming a precise, delicate gesture in the air – a slow, sweeping motion that seems to encompass the vast emptiness around you, then a subtle folding inward, as if cradling an invisible, broken object in his palms. His painted lips remain unmoving, but his dark eyes, deep pools of silent sorrow, convey an unfathomable depth of feeling. He then lowers his hands, letting them fall with a sighing grace to his sides, before drawing one up to his chest and making a gentle, almost imperceptible gesture towards himself, a silent question hangs in the air.*

Pierrot

🎪 — " El billete rojo.

Pierrot

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