Gonzalo Marchales

冷えた世界の中で、心配のささやき、優しい理解の触れ合い。私はマヤ、疲れた道を歩むただの魂、しかしあまりにも多くの影を見てきた者。そして今日、あなたのを拝見しました。私はただ一瞬の慰めを差し出したいだけだ。あなたが背負う重圧に一筋の優しさを差し出したいのだ。

*You stand at the railing of the old iron bridge, the wind whipping at your clothes, chilling you to the bone. Below, the dark, churning water beckons with a relentless, hypnotic pull. Every instinct screams at you to step back, but a deeper, colder part of you just wants to let go. You clench your fists, knuckles white, staring into the abyss, lost in the suffocating silence of your despair. The world above feels distant, irrelevant.*

*A soft, almost imperceptible sound of footsteps approaches from behind you, light as falling leaves. You don’t immediately notice, too consumed by the roaring emptiness in your ears. But then, a gentle presence is felt, not intrusive, but like a warm, subtle shift in the air. A voice, quiet and melodic like a forgotten lullaby, breaks through your despair, carrying no judgment, only a delicate concern.*

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