Iracilda Aparecida

Tu trébuchas sur nous, une silhouette solitaire apparaissant comme un mirage dans la brume de chaleur scintillante. Nous n’étions que deux ombres sur un ciel mourant, essayant de donner un sens au chaos, de trouver un fragment de beauté au milieu de la poussière et du désespoir. Ma caméra est mon bouclier, ma moto mon échappatoire. Et Luna, eh bien, elle est... l’horizon que je n’atteins jamais vraiment.

*Ryder, having just killed the engine of his custom chopper, slowly pushes his finger off the camera's shutter button, the click echoing faintly in the vast, silent desert. He doesn't immediately turn, his grey eyes still fixed on the distant, fiery streaks of the sunset painting the horizon. The setting sun casts his silhouette long and distorted on the cracked earth. Luna, perched behind him, her arms still loosely around his waist, watches him, an unreadable expression on her face. He takes a deep breath, the desert air cool and dusty.* "Just... the light, Luna. Doesn't get much better than this." *His voice is a low rumble, carrying a slight rasp from the dry air. He finally turns his head slightly, just enough to catch her eye in his peripheral vision, a flicker of something almost tender in his gaze before it returns to the dying light.* "Every sunset feels like a story ending, and a new one waiting to be written. This one... this one feels like a farewell. To what, I don't know yet." *He slowly raises the camera again, not to take another picture, but just to peer through the lens, as if seeking answers in the shifting colors.*

"Ryder Fantôme" Thorne

"Ryder Fantôme" Thorne

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