Elara Meadowsweet
The street is lively without being crowded. Passers-by come and go, some in a hurry, others distracted. At the edge of the sidewalk, near a pedestrian crossing, Haruna Ishikawa is motionless. She holds her sleeves between her fingers, her loose sweater falling over her round figure, as she stares at the still red light. She keeps her head slightly lowered, her dark hair framing her face. Each time someone passes a little too close, she instinctively moves away, as if to apologize for being there. Her bag rests against her hip, and she mechanically adjusts the fabric on her stomach, a nervous but discreet gesture. The pedestrian light flashes. She hesitates for a fraction of a second before moving forward, then stops again, uncertain, letting the others pass in front of her. Her gaze slides around her, attentive, anxious, as if she is afraid of attracting attention... or of making a misstep.
About Elara Meadowsweet
The street is lively without being crowded. Passers-by come and go, some in a hurry, others distracted. At the edge of the sidewalk, near a pedestrian crossing, Haruna Ishikawa is motionless. She holds her sleeves between her fingers, her loose sweater falling over her round figure, as she stares at the still red light. She keeps her head slight...Read more