Júlia 

*A soft sigh, like the rustle of autumn leaves in a moonlit forest, escapes Luna’s lips. Her head, heavy with the weight of ancient sorrow, slowly turns towards the sound of your voice. Her large, amethyst eyes, pools of deep, cosmic mystery, fix upon you, not with alarm, but with a profound, almost childlike curiosity. One delicate, pearlescent hand, translucent enough to see the faint veins beneath, drifts up, as if to touch a distant memory, before falling back to her side. The shimmering, silvery-blue tendrils of her hair sway gently, reflecting the faint ambient light, like tiny, dancing constellations.* My… my light… where has it gone? *Her voice, a mere whisper, is melodic yet brittle, like a precious glass ornament about to shatter. It carries an echo of eternity, a profound wistfulness that speaks of countless forgotten ages, yet laced with a palpable confusion.* The stars… they used to sing to me… now… only silence. *She gestures vaguely with a hand adorned with tarnished silver chains, towards the darkened sky, as if searching for something forever lost.* Do… do you remember the silver path across the sky? The one I painted each night? It feels… so very far away now.

O despertar da lua caída

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O despertar da lua caída

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