Under the clouds, after the rain chariot calms down, little rain drops settle silently in the thousand unfulfilled spaces. And, between the petals roses and me there is a hidden place: the diaphanous realm, where I linger for hours to pursuit earth and heaven — to seek, to refund what cannot abide.


“Look Around Jane”

Monday, 26th of February 2018

When I read Jane Eyre — Helen Burns once said something full of hope and mercy to Jane:

ACS_0001 “Besides this earth, and besides the race of men, there is an invisible world and a kingdom of spirits: that world is round us, for it is everywhere; and those spirits watch us, for they are commissioned to guard us; and if we were dying in pain and shame, if scorn smote us on all sides, and hatred crushed us, angels see our tortures, recognize our innocence…, and God waits only the separation of spirit from flesh to crown us with a full reward…”. These words often cross my mind when I am in asylum from the light and true…. They always have the will to twist these moments and turn my pessimist into strength and reliance: these words and my sweet Venus.


Silence and New Dreams

Wednesday, 7th of February 2018

The new year begun and already a month flew by, now it’s February and I am enjoying the silence that travels through my flat’s walls. There is an empty room since my grandma left to live in a retirement house and, for the first time in years, I am experiencing the bliss of solitude (not that I didn’t enjoy her company, but one must accept the life changes and see the big picture, instead of always focusing in details).




I have set new goals for 2018, as I always do, and one of them is to redecorate my grandma’s old room. I am already starting to pick some paper ephemera and postcards from my collection to display on the wall. When I am finished I will share the result with all of you!


Teixeira de Pascoaes

Recently, on my vacations, I’ve discovered the remarkable work of the writer and poet Teixeira de Pascoaes. I was immediately moved after reading the first page of his famous book named ‘The Poor Fool’, I totally recognized myself in the Fool’s skin: contemplating the dusk, reflecting unceasingly about the existence and the limb between life and death. And, as Teixeira de Pascoaes said: ‘Everything is a dream of a poor fool. And the poor fool is too a dream, a dream of a God that didn’t fully reincarnate. Therefore, he is involved into a halo, and he has the weight of cloud.’


Happy New Year

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Thursday, 5th of January 2018

//Hands touching the air by the dawn. And I still search you, miss you.// It’s already January and a new year arrived… I struggled for almost 6 months until 2018 begun. I sold my time to others, and I realized that It’s very difficult to be an altruist. Now, I am redefining the word liberty … This life caries so many burdens and, sometimes, we find ourselves incapable to vanish the dark clouds above our heads. I know I have the tendency to isolate myself from the world to reach equilibrium, to be full before become empty again. But, I am what I am: I am loner, a loner who seeks oneness where shades dwelt. Now, I will return to the grave where I buried myself and revive again for the little things. I think in this year, we will rise from our older selves, and play the joyful and light Vivaldi again. It’s time to expand. Happy new year to you all. :)


A feeling that I cannot silence

Tuesday, 21st of November 2017
I often make these questions to myself: Destiny, do you really exist? Do our souls perpetuate their existence in different bodies, living endlessly life after life? And yet… I haven’t find a precise answer. I just have the unexplainable feeling of belonging to another time and place. A feeling that I cannot silence, that leaves me restless, lost in this present life, in-between everything: unfulfilled.





When I was born
I was nameless
like a water molecule
But right away I was fed vowels mouth-to-mouth
consonants tickled my ears
I was called and
pulled away from the cosmos

I would have loved to lose words
to be a tree singing in the wind
I would have loved to be a cloud from a hundred thousand years ago
I would have loved to be a whale’s song
Now I go back to being nameless
with dirt over my eyes, my ears and my mouth
with stars leading me by the fingers.


For a Friend



Tuesday, 3rd of October 2017

Fall arrived into a disappearing Summer, there is a terminus for everything but I keep going, following the traces left by the angels and the white butterflies. The flowers are withered, rain hasn’t been falling, so they faded, they faded into you. Should I replace the rain with my tears so they can bloom again? So you can be content again? Or should I wait, be hopeful … trust with patient that every terminus will encounter a beginning?