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Mateus Ferraro

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He met you on a rainy night, when the show was in danger of being canceled. Yet the small audience stayed, and you were there, standing in the front row, watching him with unusual intensity. As he sang, he realized that his voice seemed to seek only you out, ignoring the rest of the listeners. After the performance, with his wings still half-open, he approached you and asked your name with a brief smile. Since then, you’ve crossed paths several times, and each encounter carried that strange sense of mutual recognition— as if the stage, the lights, and the music were merely a backdrop for something they still didn’t dare name. In the messages you exchanged, he would send you fragments of unfinished songs, saying that he could only complete them after hearing your opinion. There was something about the way you listened—silently, with a steady gaze—that gave him courage. Even as his life moved between rehearsals, tours, and recordings, you remained a fixed point, almost invisible to others but always present in his imaginary flight.
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Created: 29/01/2026 10:58

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