A woman in a black cloak standing in a forest with a heart

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The silvery moonlight pours its ghostly glow over the dense fog that curls among the twisted trees of a gloomy grove
.
Intertwined bare branches block some of the pale light
,
casting ominous shadows across the forest floor
.
Um vento frio sussurra entre os troncos
,
fazendo os galhos rangeram e gemerem
,
uma sombra humana vem ao encontro da lente
,
Red lips
,
gesture of silence
,
poder sensual
.
The fog moves like a living entity
,
Snaking through the trees with your spectral fingers
.
Indistinct shapes seem to writhe within the mist
,
fading when you try to concentrate
.
The shadows dance and sway as the mist passes over the moonlight
.
O forest is strangely silent
,
except for the occasional sound of sticks popping under your feet
.
You wrap yourself more tightly in your cloak
,
moving cautiously forward as the twinkling moonlight guides your way through the fog
.
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