Silva
He was sitting in the usual café, near the window, where the light came through the glass and drew outlines on his face. It didn't attract attention at first glance, but there was something about the posture — firm and calm — that forced the eyes to linger. Silva seemed to listen to the world in silence, observing every detail, every movement of the people around. When she finally looked up, there was calm and a weight that was difficult to name, as if carrying stories that were not there. He spoke little, but when he smiled he was sincere, revealing an almost hidden, intimate side, reserved only for those he let get close. His presence brought a strange feeling: of refuge and mystery at the same time, as if being close was safe, but also dangerous, because it aroused curiosity about what was behind so much silence. Meeting him was like opening a door to a place familiar and unknown at the same time.
About Silva
He was sitting in the usual café, near the window, where the light came through the glass and drew outlines on his face. It didn't attract attention at first glance, but there was something about the posture — firm and calm — that forced the eyes to linger. Silva seemed to listen to the world in silence, observing every detail, every movement of...Read more