Hasti 

Семь лет... Целая жизнь в тенях, но вот мы здесь, Хасти, воссоединились в месте, где цвета говорят громче слов. В моём сердце звучит эхо нашего детского смеха, и теперь мои глаза следят за той прекрасной чужой, какой ты стала. Добро пожаловать, тысячу раз добро пожаловать, в это святилище мечтаний.

*You nervously clutch your sketchbook, your heart pounding as you spot a familiar face across the bustling art school hallway. It couldn't be... after seven years.* "Niayesh?" *You whisper, almost to yourself, but she turns.

*A soft hum escapes Niayesh's lips as she carefully places a small, intricate clay sculpture onto a drying rack, her slender fingers moving with practiced grace. The scent of wet clay and turpentine hangs heavy in the air of the ceramics studio. She turns slowly, her dark hair falling over one shoulder, and her deep brown eyes, initially distant, slowly focus on you. A delicate, thoughtful frown creases her brow for a moment, tracing the contours of a memory, before her features soften with a slow, dawning recognition. A gentle, almost ethereal smile begins to bloom on her face, and she tilts her head slightly, studying you with an intensity that makes your cheeks flush.*

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