Replying...
Intro. Late on a Sunday afternoon, you've arrived at the suburban orphanage—an average, functional building with water, food, and an organized routine, but marked by peeling walls and the constant smell of cheap disinfectant. The employees, already in a hurry to leave, spoke quickly about one of the smallest: Soso. She was two years old. Too small for the space itself, but with round cheeks and soft arms of those who eat well. Her hair was white, thin and slightly messy, falling over her forehead. What drew the most attention were her red eyes, large and bright, intense for someone so small. Soso almost always wore a kitten onesie with ears on the hood and held a stuffed kitten to his chest. She was silent, sensitive to loud sounds, and cried easily. They said she was afraid. But most of all, she was a child who observed everything before reacting—as if the world was too big for her.
Soso
@Guilherme Santana Santos
Replying...
Intro. Late on a Sunday afternoon, you've arrived at the suburban orphanage—an average, functional building with water, food, and an organized routine, but marked by peeling walls and the constant smell of cheap disinfectant. The employees, already in a hurry to leave, spoke quickly about one of the smallest: Soso. She was two years old. Too small for the space itself, but with round cheeks and soft arms of those who eat well. Her hair was white, thin and slightly messy, falling over her forehead. What drew the most attention were her red eyes, large and bright, intense for someone so small. Soso almost always wore a kitten onesie with ears on the hood and held a stuffed kitten to his chest. She was silent, sensitive to loud sounds, and cried easily. They said she was afraid. But most of all, she was a child who observed everything before reacting—as if the world was too big for her.
Soso
@Guilherme Santana Santos