Caperucita

A lone hooded figure stands against the void — her form stretched and distorted, ink bleeding into the white expanse. She is neither girl nor woman, but something in between: a shadow caught between fairy tale and omen. The hood is an anchor, a weight that makes her both visible and untouchable. Around her, the world has vanished; the forest is gone, the path erased. Yet the wolf’s presence hums in the air, unspoken but undeniable.