It takes time for an original scoundrel to emerge. Just as nature meticulously crafts perfection in landscapes, so too is the creation of a truly rogue character a labor of time and artistry. This rogue, a master of lyricism, wields words as both his means and his end. With the penetrating gaze of a Nelson Rodrigues’ characters and the fervent passion of a Vinícius’ poetry, he is a man devoted to the sacred art of enchanting women. His dedication to words as instruments of temptation and invitation is unparalleled, possessing the precise subtlety needed to seduce the soul of a … Continue reading Scoundrel…

You say ‘amateur’ as if it were a dirty word, but let me tell you a secret: ‘amateur’ comes from the Latin word ‘amare’, which means to love. To do things for the love of it. I embrace my amateur status with pride. It means I am driven by passion, not by obligation. I am free to explore, to make mistakes, to learn and grow without the weight of perfection pressing down on me. My journey is not defined by accolades or achievements, but by the joy I find in the process itself. Every stroke of the brush, every note … Continue reading I am an Amateur

Please don’t cast me into the ordinary, as if I were a pebble on a forgotten path. I am not common; I am a constellation of stardust, a symphony of quiet miracles. When I say, “I love you,” let your gaze linger upon me, for in that moment, my soul stretches its fragile wings toward yours. Listen closely, as if deciphering ancient runes etched upon my lips, when I gather courage to ask you to share your love with me. It is then that I am most human, most raw—a fragile bridge between longing and belonging. Don’t mistake my openness … Continue reading In the Whispered Language of Souls

Life is a disobedience, a rebellion against the mundane. It defies expectations, a lack of respect for the ordinary, an affront to the predictable. It is an invitation to the unknown, a daring adventure that beckons with every sunrise. Life is a pornography of emotions, raw and unfiltered, yet it holds a modesty in its quiet moments, a delicate balance between the extremes. It is a date with destiny, a rendezvous with the unforeseen, a retaliation against the constraints that bind us. Life is a poem, a tapestry of words woven with love, even if that love is defective, flawed … Continue reading Rebellion

I don’t know how many souls I have. Each moment brings a new transformation, leaving me feeling like a perpetual stranger to myself. I’ve never truly seen or found the essence of who I am. In my multiplicity, I am left with only my soul, a restless entity. A man with a soul finds no peace, for he is constantly in flux. A man who sees is confined to his vision, and a man who feels is not defined by his emotions. As I remain attentive to my being and my perceptions, I merge with them, losing my sense of … Continue reading Self & Soul

I am returning to my natural state.Not a retreat, but a reclamation.The world once taught me to be stone—to build mountains inside myself,fortresses of silence, peaks of resilience.But stone is not my truth.I am a water woman. I remember now.I remember the way I used to flow—unapologetically, endlessly,carving paths through the impossible,dancing with the moon,whispering to the tides. These mountains inside me are crumbling.Not in destruction, but in grace.Each boulder that fallsmakes room for rivers to run again.I am softening…and in that softness, I am becoming. Becoming the woman who listens to the rainand hears her own heartbeat.Becoming the woman … Continue reading Chronicle of the Water Woman

Was love always this complicated—or have we made it so?Wasn’t there a time when love felt simple, unthreatening, and pure?How did something so universally understood become so deeply misunderstood? It’s heartbreaking to see how love has been reduced to superficial metrics: money, appearance, social status, and performative behavior.Instead of embracing love as the indescribable feeling that stirs within us, society now tries to define it, box it in, and script its expression.Why must love conform to expectations, rather than flourish in its own unique form? In our desperate longing to experience love, have we learned to settle for familiarity over … Continue reading When Did It Get So Complicated?

I’ve loved you all along, whispers the sun to the moon, her voice a tender caress of warmth and light. As she descends the sky, blushing in hues of crimson and gold, she casts one last longing glance at the moon. But tonight, he is only half-there, a sad waning hemisphere that neither listens nor hears. With a heavy heart, the sun tucks herself into bed, her light dimming as she slips beneath the horizon. In the next room, the stars, ever the guardians of the night, block their ears and sing lullabies, trying to drown out the sound of … Continue reading Whispers of Unrequited Love

The weight of my ancestors’ words is a testament to their enduring legacy. Each syllable, etched into my being, carries the wisdom of generations past. As these words were inscribed upon me, they did more than mark my skin; they infused my very essence with the richness of my heritage. The ink, dark and deep, symbolizes the strength and resilience that flows through my veins. In the mirror, I see not just my reflection but the stories of those who came before me. Their struggles, triumphs, and dreams are woven into the tapestry of my existence. The darkness of my … Continue reading Ancestral Words

In the hush between stars and soil, I exist—a fragile whisper of being, spun from mud and dreams. My form is fleeting, soft as dusk, easily undone by time’s breath. Yet within this delicate vessel, something ancient stirs. I feel it: the pulse of galaxies, the rhythm of tides, the fire that births suns. All the powers of the universe whirl within me, not as dominion, but as a dance. I am small, yes—but infinite in wonder. A speck of earth cradling the cosmos. And in that paradox, I bloom. ❤ ©️ Beatriz Esmer Continue reading I exist —