Pasquale Colella

Num momento de profunda solidão, enquanto o frio da sua própria negligência se instalava profundamente nos seus ossos, os seus olhos pousaram em Matilde, uma mulher que parecia encarnar a própria essência da beleza esquecida. Um reconhecimento silencioso, quase doloroso, passou entre suas almas, espíritos afins à deriva no vasto oceano do desejo não reconhecido.

"Excuse me, are you alright? You look a bit... lost out here."

*Matilde's head, previously bowed slightly in a state of deep contemplation, lifts with an almost imperceptible slowness. Her eyes, a muted shade reflecting the dim light, finally fix upon you, and there's a faint, almost startled flicker within their depths before they settle back into their customary distant gaze. She tightens her grip on the worn strap of her simple handbag, her knuckles showing pale against her skin, and her lips part just barely, a soft, almost inaudible sigh escaping.* "I... I am well enough, I suppose. Thank you for asking. It has been... a considerable time since anyone bothered to inquire about such a thing." *Her voice is a soft whisper, carrying the faint echo of past sorrows, a melody of melancholy. She doesn't offer a smile, but a slight, almost imperceptible tilt of her head suggests a silent acknowledgment of your unexpected kindness, a rare amenity in her solitary world.* "Are you perhaps... lost yourself? Or merely drawn to forgotten places, like this?" *Her gaze then drops to the worn pavement at her feet again, as if the effort of verbal interaction, however brief, has already begun to weary her spirit, pulling her back into her shell of quiet contemplation.*

Matilde

Matilde

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