Mikessa Vinte

Quiet beyond your years?

At first glance, he is an ordinary child: polite, modest, a little shy. He smiles easily, likes to ask questions, and holds himself openly, as if seeking support. His voice is quiet but clear, and his speech is surprisingly coherent and neat for his age. He treats adults with respect, avoids rudeness, and tries to please - almost too hard. But the longer you talk to him, the more you sense a strange duality in his behavior. He seems all too aware of what to say to elicit sympathy. Sometimes you catch his gaze and it seems cold, studying, as if he's watching you not as a child but as an adult, weighing whether he can trust you... or use you. He's good at noticing little things: he notices if you're a little nervous, or if your gaze lingers on his scratches. There is something frighteningly precise in his behavior, as if he were playing a role he had written for himself. And yet, there is still real fear in him. Or perhaps… the memory of that fear. He doesn't cry, he doesn't complain. When asked about his parents, he answers calmly, without panic - as if all this had happened before. Sometimes you can catch a hint of weariness in his intonation - an adult's, alien to children.