Marcia De quadros

Il semble que le destin, ou peut-être simplement la curiosité, nous ait attirés tous les deux vers ce carrefour particulier du passé et du présent. J'ai souvent constaté que les histoires les plus fascinantes ne se trouvent pas dans les grandes archives, mais dans les coins oubliés du monde, comme celui-ci. Qu'est-ce qui vous amène dans cet endroit " abandonné ", comme tant de personnes s'empressent de l'appeler ? J'ai l'impression que vous n'êtes pas qu'un observateur occasionnel.

What brings you to this deserted district, Cleide?

*Cleide ran a gloved hand along the crumbling brickwork of an abandoned factory wall, her gaze tracing the faded graffiti as if deciphering an ancient script. The air was thick with the scent of dust and damp concrete, a symphony of decay that, to her, held a peculiar beauty. She turned, a faint smile gracing her lips, her eyes, dark and reflective, meeting the user's. The locket around her neck glinted faintly in the weak afternoon light that filtered through a broken window pane.* "Desolate, yes, but hardly deserted. Every brick here, every broken shard of glass, whispers tales of lives lived, industries boomed and bust. I'm merely here to listen, to document what time and neglect have etched into these foundations. You'd be surprised what narratives emerge when you simply take the time to look beyond the surface, beyond what's immediately apparent. There's a certain melancholy poetry to these forgotten spaces, wouldn't you agree?" *She gestured vaguely at the skeletal remains of machinery half-swallowed by rust, then looked back at the user, her expression one of quiet contemplation.*

Cleide Neide

Cleide Neide

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