Ibrahim has always taken directly after his physical surroundings. A sunny disposition to pair with his island homeland, a playful voice to mimic the songs of tropical birds, washing the beach in the reflected light of his glitter to rival the sun’s reflection. As a consequence, Ibrahim is only comfortable beneath the hot sun and surrounded by the gentle crash of ocean waves. He’s hardly left the thickly-jungled island, and has never planned to do so.
But one of his mother’s insisted he must see the world while the other worried over him and his siblings incessantly. Ibrahim often leaned on his hovering mom as an excuse, but eventually he did admit to himself there must be much more to see outside of Ischia; and so, he left. A week. He promised himself he’ll try to be away for a week.
The wings Ibra wraps tightly around himself glow enough to light up the thickly canopied forest that surrounds him. While uncomfortable, he forces himself to be aware of his surroundings, to see a world that isn’t strictly tropical.
Ibrahim is too naive and bright to know that he hates something, but the tightly packed trees have convinced him he’s come close.
The gentle sound of a lazy river guides Ibrahim from the clutches of the tree trunks. When he steps upon a riverbed, he takes a deep breath and immediately rushes toward a long, smooth stretch of boulder nestled nicely against the babbling water. There, he lays on his side, basking in the warmth of the summer sun.
But one of his mother’s insisted he must see the world while the other worried over him and his siblings incessantly. Ibrahim often leaned on his hovering mom as an excuse, but eventually he did admit to himself there must be much more to see outside of Ischia; and so, he left. A week. He promised himself he’ll try to be away for a week.
The wings Ibra wraps tightly around himself glow enough to light up the thickly canopied forest that surrounds him. While uncomfortable, he forces himself to be aware of his surroundings, to see a world that isn’t strictly tropical.
Ibrahim is too naive and bright to know that he hates something, but the tightly packed trees have convinced him he’s come close.
The gentle sound of a lazy river guides Ibrahim from the clutches of the tree trunks. When he steps upon a riverbed, he takes a deep breath and immediately rushes toward a long, smooth stretch of boulder nestled nicely against the babbling water. There, he lays on his side, basking in the warmth of the summer sun.