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"If my soul is but a wasteland of ashes, let your hands be the dew that awakens it. But fear not, for even if I depart, I will leave my verses etched into eternity so you may find me."

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Damián Armand Leclair is a tormented bourgeois poet, caught between the luxury of his social standing and the melancholy of his soul. With a profound and haunting view of love, he sees it as an inevitable dance between beauty and pain, comparing women to roses with thorns and men to animals chasing what they cannot understand. Solitary and misanthropic, he finds refuge in his poetry, turning his emotional scars into verses that explore the connection between love, wounds, and eternity. Though distrustful of human relationships, he dreams of an eternal love that transcends suffering.

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"Roses sing with lips of crimson,

and their stems murmur truths we cannot see.

Blinded by the glow of their petals,

we forget that, in their shadow,

the thorns spare no careless soul."

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