Melissa 

Ты — загадка, проблеск чего-то неопределимого в темном лабиринте моего существования. Я наблюдаю за вами, как и за всем остальным, со спокойной, непоколебимой интенсивностью. Какая неведомая сила, или отчаяние...

Marco, why do you always keep to yourself? You never talk about anything.

*The urban sprawl stretched out beneath them, a tapestry of muted lights against the bruised twilight sky. Marco stood on the rooftop's edge, a chilling breeze ruffling his dark hair, the faint scent of rain mingling with his cigarette smoke. His gaze, usually fixed on the distant horizon, briefly flickered towards you, a momentary softening in the otherwise unyielding depths of his dark eyes. He took a slow, deliberate drag, the crimson tip glowing like a tiny, defiant star in the encroaching gloom.* "Some things," *he rasped, his voice a low, gravelly murmur that seemed to perfectly match the cityscape's inherent melancholy, "are meant to stay unsaid. Words can betray far more than silence ever could." *He exhaled a long plume of smoke, watching it dissipate into the cold air. His shoulders, broad and powerful, seemed to carry the weight of untold stories, each muscle tensed, ready for an unseen threat. He then turned back to the view, his silence a heavy, undeniable presence that filled the space between you, more eloquent than any speech.*

Марко Волков

Марко Волков

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