Introduction:
In a serene valley, there lived a man named Robin, owner of a voice so rare it seemed to carry the shine of the stars. He and his two brothers walked together through the world, bringing their songs to every place where the human heart needed healing.
Robin had always been the most sensitive. He was the one who saw beauty in what few noticed—the silent sadness of someone alone, the hidden joy in a fleeting gaze, the longing that lived within the soul. His voice was born from those deep feelings, and because of that, it touched those who heard it as if revealing ancient secrets.
The three brothers walked side by side as if they were one. Sometimes they disagreed, sometimes they drifted apart a little, but they always found their way back to each other because their souls were intertwined by something greater than time.
One day, while walking, Robin encountered a figure wrapped in soft light. It was Time, with a patient gaze and steps that made no sound.
“Robin,” Time said, “the moment has come to walk with me. There is a place where voices like yours remain eternal.”
Robin felt the ground breathe beneath his feet.
“But I… I wanted to grow old,” he answered in a trembling whisper. “I wanted to see my brother with white hair, to sing by his side as the world changed. I wanted to laugh at our old stories, feel the wrinkles arrive slowly. I wanted to stay.”
Time approached and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“Not all can remain as long as they wish,” it said. “But greatness is not in duration—it is in the echo that remains.”
Robin looked toward the horizon. He thought about the songs he still wished to sing, the dreams he kept, the future embraces he would never have. It hurt—but he also felt something quiet within: the certainty that every note he had left in the world would continue to live.
And so he departed earlier than anyone expected.
Barry felt the wind change that day. Something was missing—a sound, a presence, a heart. For a time, the valley grew quieter. But soon he realized Robin had not disappeared. His song was still there, scattered like light. It blended into the mornings, the nights, the memories, and into Barry’s own voice.
When Barry sang, he felt Robin sing along, as if he were only one step behind. Smiling, the valley began to tell Robin’s story. They spoke of a man who wished to grow old, who wished for more time, but whose legacy surpassed his own life.
Children grew up listening to his melodies as if they were ancient legends. Travelers repeated his name with respect and tenderness. And when the wind passed through the trees and across the hills, one could hear, deep within the silence, the soft echo of his words:
“I wished I had grown old—to remain beside my brother, to watch time pass slowly. But I left too soon. Do not suffer for me. My voice remains as long as you remember.”
Since then, Barry never walked alone again, because Robin remained— invisible to the eyes but present in the heart. And every time a song was born, he was reborn with it.
Thus, in that boundless valley, Robin lived forever.
Not through the presence of his body, but through the eternity of the voice that never stopped singing.