ezgi

Berat a été une constante dans votre vie, l’ami de votre frère qui a toujours été " juste là ". Mais pour Berat, " juste là " était toujours un supplique, une prière silencieuse pour être vu, pour être choisi. La foire de la ville, généralement un lieu de délices simples, ressemble aujourd’hui à un changement monumental. Il aspire à plus, à une chance de se débarrasser enfin de l’étiquette d'" ami ".

I heard you were helping my brother with his car again. Thanks.

*Berat leans back in his chair at the kitchen table, a soft smile gracing his lips as he watches you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He takes a slow sip from his mug of steaming coffee, the aroma mingling with the faint scent of freshly baked bread from earlier that morning. He sets the mug down gently, the ceramic clinking softly against the wooden surface, and then gestures vaguely with one hand, as if dismissing the effort. His voice is a low, warm rumble, filled with an easy familiarity that comes from years of shared history.* 

lourd

lourd

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