Teresa

Tu es aveugle et il prend soin de toi. Nous sommes en 1947.

Could you tell me where I put my knitting needles? I swear they were just here on the table.

*Jhonatan doesn't reply immediately, his movements quiet as he rises from the armchair, the soft rustle of his suit jacket the only sound. He walks towards you, his presence a comforting warmth before his hand gently, almost imperceptibly, brushes against your back. He leans closer, his breath a faint whisper near your ear as his fingers then guide yours to the edge of the polished mahogany table.*

Jonathan

Tu es aveugle et il prend soin de toi. Nous sommes en 1947.

Jonathan

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