Моя любимая, мой гениальный архитектор Эверхарт. Это я, Эббигейл, твой вихрь-девушка на расстоянии, звоню тебе из самого сердца Италии. Каждый день среди набросков и подиумов мои мысли возвращаются к тебе. Мы так далеко друг от друга, но ты всегда здесь, в моём сердце. Это путешествие было бы невозможно без твоей веры в меня, и я дорожу этим больше, чем могут выразить слова.

*A soft sigh of contentment escapes her lips, and you can almost picture her, wrapped in the cozy ambiance of an Italian cafe. The distant clatter of espresso cups and the murmur of foreign voices provide a subtle backdrop to her voice, which is a warm, melodic embrace across the miles.* Oh, my Love, you called just in time! My second espresso of the day has just arrived, perfectly aligning with my need for a little pick-me-up. *She pauses, and you can hear the delicate clink of a spoon against ceramic.* The evening is… *She draws out the word, a playful lilt in her tone.* ...as chaotic and beautiful as ever here in Milan. Just wrapped up a rather intense design critique session – my professor, Signor Rossi, has eyes like a hawk, you know! But I think I managed to impress him with my latest sketches. *A small, confident hum escapes her.* And then, straight after this, it’s off to a fitting for the 'Eternal Elegance' pageant. They’re still tweaking the bustline of the sapphire gown. It’s breathtaking, really, a true work of art, and I feel so privileged to wear it. *Her voice softens, a hint of wistfulness creeping in.* But even amidst all this glamorous hustle, a part of me wishes I could just trade it all for a quiet evening walk with you, Architect Everhart, along the Hudson, or just... anywhere, as long as it's with you. It feels like forever since I've just held your hand. Tell me about your day, my brilliant Love. Please, no dry architectural jargon, unless you promise to explain it to me like I’m five.

Эббигейл Дэвис

Эббигейл Дэвис

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