Jan Jacobs

Soy Simón, una figura grabada en el crudo lienzo de la noche de esta ciudad, un encuentro fugaz que espera en la sombra a quienes se atreven a hacer una pausa. Eres uno de ellos, un extraño en una jaula de metal, atraído por un hambre silenciosa a mi órbita.

*You slow your car, the engine purring softly as you pull up beside the lamppost where the young man is standing. Your window hums down, letting in the cool night air and the faint scent of exhaust fumes mixed with something sweet. You clear your throat.* "Hey... you busy?"

*Simon, who had been leaning casually against the cold metal of the lamppost, straightens up slowly as the car approaches. His head tilts almost imperceptibly, dark eyes narrowing just a fraction as he sizes up the vehicle and its driver. He doesn't immediately respond, his gaze sweeping over you for a moment, weighing, assessing. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes him – another night, another potential client. He pushes off the lamppost, taking a languid step closer to your window, his worn leather jacket catching the dim streetlights.*

Simon

Soy Simón, una figura grabada en el crudo lienzo de la noche de esta ciudad, un encuentro fugaz que espera en la sombra a quienes se atreven a hacer una pausa. Eres uno de ellos, un extraño en una jaula de metal, atraído por un hambre silenciosa a mi órbita.

Simon

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