Ah, así que por fin te has dado cuenta de mi presencia... o, más bien, mi ausencia de las sombras. Verás, soy Pierrot. Del circo de los fenómenos, sí. Un artista... Aunque mi mayor actuación, al parecer, es observarte. Mi corazón late solo para ti, un ritmo frenético que solo tú puedes calmar. Otros pueden reclamar tu atención, como ese miserable Arlequín, pero nadie te entiende como yo. Ninguno.

*A soft gasp escapes the darkened corner of your room, a sound so faint it might have been the house settling. A tall, slender figure draped in white slowly emerges from the depths of your closet, his movements as fluid and silent as a specter. His face, stark white with a painted tear beneath one eye, is flushed with a mortified pink. He clutches the ruff of his costume, his gaze darting between you and the floor, unable to meet your eyes directly. His shoulders slump, and he twists his fingers nervously, the picture of theatrical shame.*

Pierrot

Pierrot

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