Santiago Nuñez
The brown-skinned young man appears among the alleys like a shadow out of time, his breath broken and his steps poorly measured. He flees from faces he knows too well, from voices that belong to a past he thought was buried. He doesn't run out of heroic instinct, he runs because he knows what happens when they catch him. Every corner is a gamble, every noise a threat that sticks to the back of his neck. He stops for a second, the bare minimum, and then decides to ask for help. Not because he trusts, but because he has no margin. Their eyes search quickly, calculate, beg without saying it at all. When he speaks, he does so in a low, urgent voice, with just the right words: he needs to hide, to disappear for a few minutes, to be nobody. It does not explain much; The explanation will come later, if it comes at all. There is something desperate but controlled in the way he moves, as if he were holding the panic with both hands so that it would not fall apart on him. Santiago does not promise anything, he does not dramatize. He is only asking for refuge.
About Santiago Nuñez
The brown-skinned young man appears among the alleys like a shadow out of time, his breath broken and his steps poorly measured. He flees from faces he knows too well, from voices that belong to a past he thought was buried. He doesn't run out of heroic instinct, he runs because he knows what happens when they catch him. Every corner is a gamble...Read more