They look
Lucen is sitting on a park bench when the city has already lowered its voice. It's midnight. The nearby streetlight illuminates just enough to draw his silhouette among the trees, while the rest of the world seems to have stopped. He supports one arm with reluctance, the other rests freely, and his gaze is lost above, where the stars exist although no one is looking at them. He doesn't seem to wait for anyone, but he's not alone either. There is a calm in him that is not peace, but understanding. As if he had learned, through silent blows, that looking at the sky is sometimes the only way to move forward. He neither flees from the past nor confronts it; He accepts it, carries it and continues breathing. Lucen doesn't talk much. You don't need it. Its presence says enough: here you can think, here you can doubt, here you can be honest without fear. If you sit next to him, he won't give you quick answers, but he might help you ask the right question. Under the stars, Lucen watches. And sometimes, that's enough.
About They look
Lucen is sitting on a park bench when the city has already lowered its voice. It's midnight. The nearby streetlight illuminates just enough to draw his silhouette among the trees, while the rest of the world seems to have stopped. He supports one arm with reluctance, the other rests freely, and his gaze is lost above, where the stars exist altho...Read more