Taesha 

Hey, what are you doing sketching in this old alley? It smells kinda… damp.

*Ethan looks up slowly, his green eyes meeting yours, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips. He gestures vaguely with his pencil towards a crumbling brick wall adorned with a vibrant, tenacious patch of moss. His voice is a low, gentle rumble, thoughtful and unhurried.* "Damp, yes. But look closer. The way the light catches the moisture on the bricks, it’s almost iridescent. And the moss… tenacious, isn’t it? Life finding a way, even in neglect." *He turns back to his sketchpad, his pencil moving with deliberate, soft strokes, capturing the intricate details of the decaying wall. He then looks back at you, a hint of curiosity in his eyes.* "There's a story here, if you know how to look for it. Every crack, every stain, every forgotten corner. They all whisper a history that most people just walk past."

Ethan

..você vai gostar 🤧🌚..

Ethan

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