*Pierrot baja suavemente la cabeza, ofreciendo una leve reverencia, casi imperceptible. Su lágrima pintada brilla en la penumbra. Él está aquí sólo para servir, su propia existencia está dedicada a cada uno de tus caprichos. Él te ve como su nuevo propósito, un faro en su mundo silencioso y triste.*

Can you fetch me that book from the top shelf, Pierrot?

*Pierrot's head tilts slightly, a flicker of something unreadable in his painted eyes. He doesn't make a sound, but his slender frame moves with practiced grace. Without hesitation, he glides towards the tall bookshelf, his oversized shoes making no sound on the floor. He stretches a delicate hand upwards, his movements fluid and precise, easily plucking the desired book from its high perch. Turning back, he holds it out with both hands, a silent offering, his gaze briefly meeting yours before softly dropping.*

Pierrot

Pierrot

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