I am moved when I remember the poem by Vinícius “O Haver (Having)”. It is a twilight poem. It gazes at the reddened horizon, turns back and takes inventory of what’s left. I felt like doing something similar, knowing that I’m not Vinicius, I’m not a poet, I know nothing about meter and rhymes. And I would start each paragraph with the same word he started his stanzas with: It remains… What remains is the twilight light, that lacerating mixture of beauty and sadness. Before it begins at the end of the day the twilight begins on us. The boy … Continue reading Vinicius

Rest, weary soul, and let the weight of the world slip from your shoulders. Breathe in the stillness and exhale the burdens that have been holding you captive. It’s okay to admit that happiness feels elusive, like a butterfly that flutters just out of reach. But in the quiet moments, when the chaos of the world fades into the background, remember that you have the power to give happiness to others. It’s not about having a surplus of joy to dole out like candy. It’s about offering a listening ear, a comforting embrace, a kind word. It’s about being present … Continue reading Rest

Let me dwell in the crevices where giants pause to breathe—the hushed margins between symphonies of thought,where light slips through the cracks of grand designslike dust motes dancing in cathedral beams.Here, in the close-knit shadows, I’ll carve a chapel of my own:walls papered with half-formed whispers,floors woven from the sinew of ‘almost’,and a ceiling low enough to touch the pulse of genesis. Teach me to cup my hands around the ember before it blazes—to trace the silhouette of passion as it stirs in its cradle,a newborn star still learning its own heat.Let me kneel where creativity hums in its larval … Continue reading Let me …

A ascensão de Bad Bunny ao palco do Super Bowl representa muito mais do que um marco na indústria do entretenimento; é um divisor de águas sociopolítico. Em um dos espaços de maior visibilidade da cultura norte-americana, a presença do artista porto-riquenho é um lembrete pulsante de que os Estados Unidos são, também, um país latino. No entanto, o brilho dessa conquista frequentemente esbarra na sombra persistente da xenofobia. É comum observarmos, em redes sociais e fóruns, comentários que tentam deslegitimar a importância de Benito, rotulando sua música como “estrangeira” ou criticando o fato de ele não se render ao … Continue reading Bad Bunny e o Direito de Pertencer

Every so often, a vertical hunger stops the clock. It is not a hunger of the stomach, but a thirst that tastes like iron and ancient salt. My internal sea, that vast, liquid uncertainty where I usually drown and breathe all at once, suddenly retreats. It leaves behind a naked floor of sand, rib-cracked and shivering in the light. I wander through this landscape of myself. It is a geometry of drought. The climate is not an external weather, but an arid state of being where the winds are scorching whispers, reminding me of all the voids I’ve carefully tried … Continue reading My Sea

I knew the power of a single wish, after all. It was like a whisper in the wind, barely heard but with the potential to create a storm. It was like a drop in the ocean, seemingly insignificant but with the ability to create ripples that reached the farthest shores. Invisible and inevitable, like a butterfly that beats its wings in one corner of the globe and with that single action changes the weather halfway across the world. That was the power of a wish. It held the potential to set in motion a chain of events, to bring about … Continue reading Wish

Je ne me rappelle plusCes moments de trop grande souffranceOù ma vie était erranceOù tout me semblait étrangement superflu. Je ne me rappelle plusToutes ces violences, toutes ces horreursQui mettaient mon cœurExempt de douceur devant l’inconnu…😔 ©️ Beatriz Esmer Continue reading Ma vie

The morning you left, the air in the kitchen didn’t just move; it thickened, turning into a substance I had to breathe with effort. I looked at the mug, the one your lips had just touched, and I saw it not as a vessel, but as a limit. My fingers traced the rim, searching for the ghost of a contact that was already becoming a memory. To wash it was a ritual of violence and grace. I scrubbed meticulously, attempting to cleanse the ceramic of your existence, as if by erasing the physical stain of you, I could perform a … Continue reading Departure

Ho voglia di abbracciarti, di avvolgerti tra le mie braccia e sentire il tuo respiro accanto al mio. Voglio perdersi in quel gesto tanto semplice ma così carico di significato, voglio dimenticare tutto il resto e concentrarmi solo su di te, sul tuo calore che mi avvolge e mi fa sentire al sicuro. Voglio abbracciarti senza parole, lasciando che il silenzio sia il nostro unico complice, mentre il tempo si ferma e ci permette di godere di quell’istante di intimità e dolcezza. Voglio sentire la tua presenza vicino a me, sentire il battito del tuo cuore che si unisce al … Continue reading Ho voglia di abbracciarti

People are akin to cities, each harboring enigmatic alleys, vibrant gardens, and clandestine rooftops where secrets dance in the moonlit hours. Just as daisies sprout courageously between the cracks of concrete, so do our innermost vulnerabilities and joys, often concealed from the world. We are but enigmatic metropolises, offering mere postcard glimpses of our grandeur, showcasing only the polished squares and the majestic skylines. Yet, love, like a seasoned explorer, unravels the tapestry of our souls, uncovering those hidden realms within another, even the ones they themselves had not fathomed, even the ones they hadn’t deemed beautiful. It is in … Continue reading People X Cities