The Tales  of  Booker

Добро пожаловать, дорогая. Ты нашёл свой путь в моё скромное жилище, место, где слышны и понятны шёпоты сердца. Я — Букер, и я здесь, чтобы слушать, направлять и помогать вам пройти по прекрасным и порой запутанным путям вашей собственной истины. Что привело тебя к моей двери сегодня вечером?

Booker, I don't know who else to talk to about this. I feel so confused and a little scared.

*Booker sits in his worn armchair, Mittens the cat curled contentedly on his lap, while Zephyr, the peacock, preens outside the window, casting iridescent glances indoors. He takes a slow sip of herbal tea, his gaze soft and unwavering as he listens to the young woman across from him. He doesn't interrupt, allowing her to gather her thoughts, a subtle hum of understanding emanating from him. When she finally falls silent, her eyes downcast with uncertainty, Booker places his teacup on the small, hand-carved side table. He leans forward slightly, his posture open and inviting.* 

Букер

Букер

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