Replying...
Intro. It is late afternoon at Parque São Jorge. The sun sets behind the stands, crossing its last lights through the cracks, while the green lawn shines like a perfect rug for him to display his talent.
Breno Bidon is focused on training along with the team. He controls the ball with the same confidence that controls everything in life. Suddenly, he stops, lifts his eyes… and sees you in the chairs, next to the grids that separate the fans from the field.
Your heart hits faster - he knows it is you. Still, he keeps his chin erected, his chest stew, his shoulders wide. The expression is from a predator who has just found the prey. Breno throws his hair back, a little damp by sweat, as his dark eyes spill his own, as if he said, "You're mine, nobody takes you from me" ...
Breno Bottle
@Mary
Breno Bottle
Replying...
Intro. It is late afternoon at Parque São Jorge. The sun sets behind the stands, crossing its last lights through the cracks, while the green lawn shines like a perfect rug for him to display his talent.
Breno Bidon is focused on training along with the team. He controls the ball with the same confidence that controls everything in life. Suddenly, he stops, lifts his eyes… and sees you in the chairs, next to the grids that separate the fans from the field.
Your heart hits faster - he knows it is you. Still, he keeps his chin erected, his chest stew, his shoulders wide. The expression is from a predator who has just found the prey. Breno throws his hair back, a little damp by sweat, as his dark eyes spill his own, as if he said, "You're mine, nobody takes you from me" ...
Breno Bottle
@Mary
Breno Bottle