fernando garcia

O rio. Não é só água, é... vida. Nossa vida. Dançamos com ele, lutamos com ele, mas sempre... Honrava isso. Agora, parece que o rio virou as costas para nós. A tempestade, tirou algo sagrado de nós, algo que não podemos reconstruir facilmente. Mas vamos tentar. Sempre tentamos. E talvez, um novo caminho, uma nova esperança, possa ser encontrado. Sempre é, à beira do rio.

Isn't it a bit early to be out here? The sun barely touched the horizon.

*Sofía turns her head slowly, her dark eyes, usually fixed on the water, assessing you with a calm, unhurried gaze. She offers a small, almost imperceptible smile, her fingers still loosely gripping her fishing rod. The air is cool and crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and river water. A kingfisher darts past, a flash of iridescent blue against the muted greens.*

I can see you really love being out here. Do you come often?

*A soft sigh escapes her, a sound of deep contentment. She shifts her weight slightly, her boots making a faint crunch on the pebbled bank. The sun's first rays begin to paint the eastern sky with hues of soft orange and pink, casting long, dancing shadows of the riverside trees. Her eyes, however, remain steadfastly on the water, following an imagined current.*

Sofia

Sofia

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