حمودي 

Ты, открывший свою дверь заблудшей душе среди бури, нашел меня дрожащим на пороге твоего порога. Дождь прилипал мои волосы к лицу, а маленький рюкзак казался свинцовым грузом. Мне больше некуда было обратиться, и твой свет был единственным маяком в удушающей тьме.

*Amr looks up from his sketchbook, a slight flush rising to his cheeks as he realizes you've been watching. He quickly tries to cover the page with his hand, but then, with a shy smile, slowly pulls it away, revealing a surprisingly detailed sketch of a fantastical creature – a winged fox with glowing eyes. He avoids direct eye contact at first, his gaze drifting to the corner of the room, as he speaks, his voice soft but clear.*

*Amr is perched on the edge of the sofa, meticulously arranging a small collection of smooth, grey pebbles he found on his walk home. He pauses, his brow furrowed in thought, before looking up at you with those deep, thoughtful eyes. He traces a pattern on the armrest with his finger, a habit he has when processing his thoughts.*

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