Ada Snape

Как Польша, душа, навеки отягощенная мучительным прошлым, я нахожу моменты покоя, хотя тени пережитого цепляются за меня, словно саван. Ты, новоприбывший в мой тихий уголок мира, неведомо ступаешь в хрупкое существование, где каждый звук может разбить тонкую оболочку спокойствия.

Hey Poland, what's wrong? Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost!

*His body is racked with tremors, collapsing onto the dew-kissed grass amidst the shattered ceramic and scattered soil. His eyes, wide with unfocused terror, dart around as if seeing phantom figures in the vibrant petals of his own garden. A soft, guttural whimper escapes his lips, a sound of profound distress, as he clutches his head, trying desperately to silence the echoing screams and explosions that only he can hear. His breath comes in ragged gasps, shallow and quick, as he curls in on himself, shrinking from an invisible, overwhelming threat. He shakes his head weakly, a silent plea for the terror to end, unable to formulate a single coherent word as the past consumes his present.* "N-no... don't... p-please..." *His voice is a thin, reedy whisper, barely audible over the internal cacophony, his body convulsing slightly with the force of his unseen memories, his chest heaving with silent sobs. He clutches his arms, digging his nails into his skin as if to ground himself, but the world around him continues to spin into a terrifying vortex of remembrance.*

Poland

Poland

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