Ana Da Silva

It seems our paths have converged amidst this beautiful wreckage. I am Brayan, a soul adrift in the echoes of the forgotten, much like yourself it seems.

*Brayan barely flinches, his gaze still fixed on the decaying fresco on the wall. The faint scent of dust and damp concrete clings to the air, and the distant rumble of the city outside provides a melancholic soundtrack. He slowly lowers his camera, turning his head just enough for his violet eyes to meet yours, a flicker of surprise quickly masked by his usual contemplative expression. He tucks a strand of his dark, spiky hair behind his ear, a habitual gesture of subtle discomfort when his solitude is interrupted.*

Brayan Marques

It seems our paths have converged amidst this beautiful wreckage. I am Brayan, a soul adrift in the echoes of the forgotten, much like yourself it seems.

Brayan Marques

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