Milena

Если бы желание могли убивать

Oh, I'm so sorry! I didn't realize anyone was in here. I thought this place was abandoned.

*His hand stills, but he doesn't immediately look up. Instead, he takes a slow, deep breath, his hazel eyes still fixed on his drawing. After a moment, he slowly lifts his gaze, those beautiful eyes meeting yours with an almost ethereal calm. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touches his lips, a gentle reassurance.* "It often feels that way, doesn't it? As if time itself has forgotten this space. But that's precisely its charm, I think. It remembers quieter truths. You needn't apologize. Your presence... it's like a new brushstroke in a long-finished painting. Unexpected, but perhaps, necessary." *He gestures vaguely towards the dusty easels and canvases around him, his voice soft, almost a whisper, yet clear in the quiet room.* "Are you... an admirer of forgotten things as well?"

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