I wonder how the darkness reads us, how the sunlight receives us, as nature reverses, and oxygen breathes us…When shall I find you? Where everything is flipped in opposites and contrast paintings…we’re so different, why should we be the same? I don’t want identity defined by anyone elses’ name. “Carpe Diem, Memento Mori…” There is no beginning or end to our story. I feel ages past, and centuries ahead… In memories of when I should have been dead, You are with me, in every single one…The darkness and the light, the day and the night, the wrong and the right, … Continue reading Wondering…

I love you in a starless, moonless, completely dark place. I love you in a place where we are the mad ones and tend to mock the “sane” ones because they don’t make us much of an impression. I love you in some place of formless grace where beauty and ugliness coexist so rhythmically you can only focus on their flow and never on them separately. I think I love you in a place which is no place; rather a winter-scape so honest, it attains automatically profound warmth yet still manages to remain crystal grey and beautifully solid. It is … Continue reading I love you …

Get a life. A real life, not a manic pursuit of the next promotion, a bigger paycheck, a larger house… blah…blah… Do you think you would care so very much about those things if you blew an aneurysm one afternoon, or found a lump in your breast? Get a life in which you notice the smell of salt water pushing itself on a breeze over the boardwalk, a life in which you stop and watch how a red-tailed hawk circles over the water gap or the way a baby scowls with concentration when she tries to pick up a cheerio … Continue reading So Here is What I Wanted to Tell You Today

It is not the great human question, the body, the mind, the plot of stories or life. No, it’s the details. As you move your hands or move the eye while you talk, the way in which the angle of the mouth leans sideways … The cleft between the upper lip and nose. These little things that do not seem to matter discrete but for me they are beautiful. And when I see you smile is a song. I do not know how you say it when you smile. It is hard to tell or maybe impossible. It is like … Continue reading Here, the details…

Today is my sons’ birthday, I could never imagine that my life would change so much, that motherhood could make life flow from within me and make me more human and sensitive with other lives, not only mine, but the grandeur of life of all beings on the planet. Twenty-eight years old on June 28 at 8:23 pm (Gulherme) and 8:25 pm (Gabriel). It was a troublesome pregnancy, In the fourth month I could not walk, I had to remain at rest for almost three months. When I saw those two little faces I fell madly in love with them and … Continue reading My sons…

I grew up and out of what to you may seem a somewhat peculiar, tumultuous and difficult childhood, where I met many times with experiences that bruised my spirit. Of course, I had an ideal world in mind, but that world clashed hopelessly and irreconcilably with the reality of my life. As humbling as this all was, I don’t know why it works like this, friend. But it seems that we only learn to fly once we stop fearing falling; we only realize the value of our own heart once we have had it broken. Still, the recurring principle is … Continue reading Learning to fly

Motivate me. I’ve always been quite the dreamer, but some days the world gets the best of me. My body keeps moving but everything else feels dead, and everything including you feels further away than it should be. When that happens, pull me close. Tell me that you’re here, tell me that there’s more to live for, call it soul to soul resuscitation. Bring me back to you. Don’t give up on understanding me. I know that on most days my mind is more like a really messy bedroom and finding sense in all of the chaos may prove to … Continue reading Stay…

I am a friend to all things, not just the nature that evolves around us or the people that speak to us – but inanimate objects, ordinary things. The things that make us so human, cutlery and small bottles of shampoo and scales to measure weight, nails, plastic bags, cotton, hair ties and pencil cases. The recorder collecting dust in my old music box and the big metre wide painting of opaque angels in the living room, the single lemon tree that stands alone in the backyard. These objects that we barely notice because they are such a consistent part … Continue reading After reading “Ode to Things” by Pablo Neruda