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“Every time you feel lost, confused, think about trees, remember how they grow. Remember that a tree with lots of branches and few roots will get toppled by the first strong wind, while the sap hardly moves in a tree with many roots and few branches. Roots and branches must grow in equal measure, you have to stand both inside of things and above them, because only then will you be able to offer shade and shelter, only then will you be able to cover yourself with leaves and fruit at the proper season.

And later on, when so many roads open up before you, you don’t know which to take, don’t pick one at random; sit down and wait. Breathe deeply, trustingly, the way you breathed on the day when you came into the world, don’t let anything distract you, wait and wait some more. Stay still, be quiet, and listen to your heart. Then, when it speaks, get up and go where it takes you.”
― Susanna Tamaro, Follow Your Heart

End of May and you are still faraway

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                                                           Thursday, 25th of May 2017

Dear Diary,

There is something comforting about taking my socks off, resting my feet on the grass, and emptying my mind from my own howling thoughts… It’s magical permitting myself to feel the abandonment, the freedom from my personality, my middling interests and existing as an improvised tree. There is something magical about don’t move, don’t think, don’t speak. Something magnanimous about being and sparkle the warm-cold light of the dusk…  There is something perpetual about my feet against the fuzzy grass that exhale the demons out of my body skin. //End of May and you are still faraway.//

Porto, 6th of April 2017

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Porto, 6th of April 2017

I’ve encountered the immaterial, the boreal… The soft light that gently touches the flower of the deads after so much suffering. I’ve encountered something that only belongs to those who live in Asylum. In desertion from the common senses. I’ve touched the invisible and felted it like rain drops and spring petals. And I shed a tear, only one and let it linger above Schubert and the white chrysanthemums. I let the boreal house my soul, confine it into something purer, undress it and triumph on the edge of the light for once.

Slow Pace

I started the new year with a flew and feeling sad with my current life state, perhaps I thought that everything will change as soon as the 2017 cling at my door, but it didn’t and I am not enjoying much my work, I am constantly watching the hours passing by and longing for my two days off, which is rather depressing. I just hope things change: that I find happiness and a nest where I am surrounded by lovely ones and where I can feel the sensation of relieve.

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All the fog that has been numbing the horizon will disappear but, meanwhile these wishes don’t come true, tea and books are helping me reminding that life has its secret pleasures. So today, I spent my second day off with one of my favorite tea brands @twgteaofficial! Christmas was kind enough to present me with a box of a green tea with alluring notes of red berry and royal pineapple. Charlotte Brontë couldn’t have a better company! I just wish that life was all about tea, flowers and books, for me this would be heaven!

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For Puella

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I love so much butterflies and seeing my work being caressed by a talented artist is so touching, rewarding and satisfying. Which fanzine that I create/made is one of a kind and although they look very primitive they come from a special place – the heart! Thank you so much Puella, this photo and gesture comforted my heart so deeply and it really brighten up my day!

Discover more from Puella’s work here:

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Thursday, 22nd of December 2016

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I will end my writings for this year today. 2016 was a strange year, I changed few times of job, plans, directions and, at the end, I still feel a bit frustrated… When I was a child I used to imagine myself when I would be a grown up… I did see a calm and trustful woman.

I thought a lot in these things when I was very young and did I turned out like I was expecting? Well, I think I am still faraway for that vision, but 17 is my number and this new year happens to be the 2017, so I hope things change; I have been preparing myself slowly for these happenings: I will have to let go past, some dear humans, regrets and fears. And I am ready for the trade, we cannot have all at once, in order to achieve something we must be ready to trade or to convert the present into something higher. I just want to say thanks to 2016, I’ve purge tuns of understandings that were living inside of me and I felt illuminated for little moments throughout these times. The epiphany of this year would be: we all are worth of the best and only the best, so please stop diving into unhappy persons and situations because that will only bring you more suffering, understand for once that you, and you alone, are worthy of all the goodness in this life. Wishing you all a happy xmas and a happy new year.

Poems from Marianne Moore and Elisabeth Bishop

Words started to fall and shaping an affable nest in my hands. Pages immersed and become profound as a forest. A deer woke up and cautiously march until reach a niche of my bare skin to kindly caress it.

My Life is made of unexpected consonances that make me smile once in a while. Sometimes, words are stollen from me and, ever and again, restituted. Thank you Flaneur for this precious gift.

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Where are you going, Little Princess?

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                                                                                        7th of September 2016

Dear Diary,

This morning, memories of my infancy flood through my eyes  – my grandfather appeared to me with his tenderness and I heard him call for me: “Little Princess, where are you going?”. I was less than 5 years old, my feet were small and fragile. Around me was the little paradise raised by my grandmother and grandfather’s hands. A vivid bougainvillea climbed through the walls with gracefulness: it was so immense and so utterly beautiful to gaze it. Peaceful I was in those days, I was part of everything and I wasn’t apart from nothing. I was fearless and pure. I didn’t felt emptiness or loneliness because I was bounded to a secret imaterial world where such a thing didn’t exist. Those days of joy where my grandfather father’s hand was still reachable are felt today with affection and nostalgia.

My new Moleskine

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 So again, I fall into temptation and bought another little notebook, I have already so many, but I can’t hold myself when I see stationeries, paper or notebooks. This one is from Moleskine. It is so pretty, I love the old rose cover and the way it is bound, it seems bound in a sort of japanese binding style. And this is a plus: it opens perfectly flat, I hate when you can’t seem to open it properly. I simply love it! Here is a page of scraps and words.