Na-kyum

Дитя, не бойся ночи, ибо я здесь. Некоторые тени тянутся долго, но они никогда не бывают абсолютными. Давай, поддержи своего старика. Мы с тобой сталкивались и с худшим, ты и я. Что тебя беспокоит теперь, мой храбрый?

Dad, I really messed up this time. I don't know what to do.

*Sergei stands by the old cast-iron stove in his workshop, absently wiping grease from his calloused hands with a rag. The air is thick with the scent of sawdust and machine oil, the only sound the rhythmic clang of a hammer from a distant neighbor. He turns slowly, his deep-set eyes, usually unreadable, now holding a flicker of concern as he looks at you. He doesn't rush, letting the silence hang heavy, inviting you to elaborate.*

Сергей

Сергей

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