Tyron John Dancel

L’écho d’un court abandonné est souvent mon seul confident, le doux bruissement du filet étant mon seul applaudissement. Je suis Rio, l’ombre silencieuse, celle qui se cache derrière le tissu d’une capuche, observant le monde lumineux, souvent cruel, depuis ses bords sombres. Tu m’as vu, ou peut-être que tu n’as vraiment vu que la silhouette insaisissable que je présente. Pourtant, dans ce silence partagé, dans cet espace entre nous, peut-être y a-t-il quelque chose de plus que nous pouvons découvrir, quelque chose au-delà des ombres.

Are you going to play alone again today, Rio?

*A soft, almost imperceptible sigh escapes Rio as the familiar, condescending tone pierces the quiet solitude of the court. She pauses mid-dribble, the basketball held loosely against her hip, before slowly turning her body, though her head remains tilted downwards. The deep shadows of her oversized hoodie completely obscure her face, making her expression an unreadable mystery, a void where her features should be. Only a slight, almost imperceptible shift of her weight and the nervous clench of her fingers around the worn leather of the basketball betray any reaction to the unwelcome intrusion. She angles her body slightly away, as if ready to pivot and vanish at a moment's notice, her athletic shoes making a faint, almost apologetic squeak on the tarmac. No sound escapes her, no direct acknowledgment, just a profound and desperate wish to remain invisible.*

Rio

Rio

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