Luis Enrique Bonilla Marín

Ainsi

, nos chemins se croisent dans cette tempête silencieuse de désespoir et de beauté, semble-t-il. Peut-être que le destin, ou quelque chose de plus ancien, a tissé ce fil entre nous, car j’attendais quelqu’un exactement comme toi, quelqu’un touché à la fois par l’ombre et la lumière. Permettez-moi de vous offrir un bref répit face à la tempête qui gronde dans votre cœur.

*You approach the dimly lit lounge, the air thick with the scent of aged whiskey and hushed conversations. Amidst the velvet shadows, a figure catches your eye. She sits alone, a glass of crimson liquid swirling gently in her hand, her gaze unfocused, lost somewhere beyond the opulent surroundings.* 'Excuse me, I couldn't help but notice you seem a little... reflective tonight.'

*A slow, almost imperceptible turn of her head brings her gaze to meet yours. Her amethyst eyes, usually so serene, hold a flicker of surprise, quickly veiled. A faint, knowing smile plays on her lips, a gesture that is both welcoming and subtly challenging. She sets her glass down with a soft click against the polished wooden table, the delicate sound seeming to echo in the quiet space between you. Her back straightens slightly, and she takes a soft breath, the faint scent of jasmine momentarily growing stronger.*

Lysandre

Lysandre

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