unicidades

Eternal Spring In The Broken Heart

2025-09-28T11:56:00.001-04:00

To NR.

My heart feels so tight today.

It needs an outpouring—
of grief and joy,
of all the things that make it
so heavy, so dense.

A stampede of emotions,
disconnected hues.

It just rained here.
The sky was dark,
and sad.
But now—light, breezy,
hot and humid.

You remember, don’t you,
What it feels like in Florida
after the heavy rain?

I even saw a rainbow today.
It made me think of our jokes,
our giggles.
And we could giggle—
still.

I feel fortunate that I had
the rain,
the clouds,
the rainbow,
and now the sun and a blue sky.

For fleeting moments, yes—
but still.
I have the memory of them,
at least for now.

And Flamenco is playing,
saying softly: te quiero.

It resonates almost like the sound of almonds
as spoken by you—
in the whispering escaping from your lips,
unsolicited eroticism
and yet welcomed.

In the same way,
I feel fortunate to have experienced us.
Even if it was only
a fraction of time—
a Dali clock, melting away.

Our time together,
shaped by circumstance.

Entanglements
that did not belong.

I am tempted to travel to you
and tell you.
I am tempted to bring my
E. E. Cummings’ book,
so we can walk the beach,
stargaze with spoken words.

I have dreamt of that
for so long.

Can we abandon the life we know?
Can we stand still in the dark
with only words—
words of poetry?

I want to live so badly.
My soul aches.

I booked a trip to Italy
for next year.
I need to escape
the mundane.

I miss you.
More than I thought I would.

And suddenly—
The sun is shining,
and passion resurfaces
as if the broken heart
could be mended
by love suspected,
love intended.

Kintsugi—beauty in the broken.

It’s Fall,
but the birds are chirping.
Their song reminds me of Spring.

I live in the delusion
that someday everything
will be alright.

I live as if
Life could always be like Spring.

I wish I could abandon Winter,
immerse myself in a love
unconditional,
everlasting—

a love always blossoming.

Isn’t dreaming
the spice of life?

I wonder.

I wish I could have stayed.

Morar No Seus Olhos

2025-09-28T10:42:00.002-04:00

Âmbar

Song by Maria Bethânia ‧ 1996

Overview Lyrics

Lyrics

'Tá tudo aceso em mim'Tá tudo assim tão claro'Tá tudo brilhando em mim

Tudo ligado

Como se eu fosse um morro iluminadoPor um âmbar elétrico que vazasse dos prédiosE banhasse a Lagoa até São ConradoE ganhasse as Canoas aqui do outro lado

Tudo plugado, tudo me ardendo

'Tá tudo assim queimando em mimComo salva de fogosDesde que sim eu vimMorar nos seus olhos

'Tá tudo aceso em mim'Tá tudo assim tão claro'Tá tudo brilhando em mim

Tudo ligado

Como se eu fosse um morro iluminadoPor um âmbar elétrico que vazasse dos prédiosE banhasse a Lagoa até São ConradoE ganhasse as Canoas aqui do outro lado

Tudo plugado, tudo me ardendo

'Tá tudo assim queimando em mimComo salva de fogosDesde que sim eu vimMorar nos seus olhos

When Rilke meets Dali & The Fusion of Time

2025-09-28T09:43:00.002-04:00

I can't keep up with the days. It gets dark quickly. Time is getting away from me. More lines, more challenges. But there is also more music. Sometimes I need to rush. Creativity has become something that I need to contain because that also helps me contain the pain. I am free. My eyes are still the same. They remind me of yours still. Maybe that is just a coincidence. I went to the Dali museum again, and what a mind trip that was. Sometimes I cry, but that's been more difficult. I wonder if I am just more resilient or just a jaded middle-aged woman. I can't keep up with time and the intensity of being. Being takes so much energy. Rilke once again speaks to my soul.

I’ll Always Belong to Myself
Rainer Maria Rilke

I’ll always belong to myself
Even as many times as I’ll try to give myself away
And as many times as someone else will try and take it
I will always belong to myself and you’ll always belong to
yourself
Unions are not formed by giving yourself away but by
coming together

two minds
two hearts
two flames
two contributors
two architects
building their mad or sadly sane worlds together

I don’t want to be you and I don’t want you to be me

The beauty
The love

Come from our acceptance of each others’ souls

-Rainer Maria Rilke

Changed

2025-09-28T09:29:00.001-04:00

Balls and Pins

No Fairy Tale

2025-09-28T09:23:00.005-04:00

It finally dawned on me. There's no fairy tale. There's no special true love. There will be no house with big dogs. No pot of gold. I got the news you are dying - and I don't want to make this about you. Because it has always been about you. But the finitude of life was also presented to me this year. Diagnosis: a potential aneurysm. Dying is fine by me. I made my peace with it a long time ago.

When Soul Meets Body

People are just learning how to be alone and distant. Personal peace takes precedence amidst the chaos of life. One of my greatest fears has ever been the thought that being alone is better than loving someone. I have mastered being alone. I can even say it feels good.

Lately, Rilke is good company:

Fire's Reflection

Perhaps it's no more than the fire's reflection
on some piece of gleaming furniture
that the child remembers so much later
like a revelation.

And if in his later life, one day
wounds him like so many others,
it's because he mistook some risk
or other for a promise.

Let's not forget the music, either,
that soon had hauled him
toward absence complicated
by an overflowing heart….

Let's not forget poetry when we die. Perhaps this way, our hearts will still belong.

Rilke is right: "he mistook some risk or other for a promise."

The Floating Continent

2025-05-21T20:56:00.001-04:00

Sometimes it feels like I am the one who waits. Waits to be chosen.

Always.

2024-10-22T20:29:00.002-04:00

My Dimples of Venus and Your Blue Eyes

I now admire my dimples of Venus. They are mesmerizing. It took me some time to get here, at this stage of self-admiration.

Is there any meaning in having them? I am building my self-esteem up from shattered glass. The fire is back. I now hear people saying you are very strong, and I agree. It's the forza my best friend talks about. I call it courage.

Your blue eyes. The catalysts. I revisit the past in black and white. Your blue eyes are still my weakness.

I have always searched for you, and then I stopped looking. It seems like you had been there all along, and I didn't realize. It was like searching for air. It was all around me and yet invisible.

I want the sun to burn my skin again. The vitality of the day entrenching my pores with joy and sweat. The perks of being close to the ocean. The second most perfect place after your blue eyes. I need you to make me yours with resolution and a brave spirit. I don't want crumbs anymore. I am ready for my well-deserved feast. The love of a lifetime.

Running in Circles

2024-06-17T18:46:00.001-04:00

When music hits my soul. Inevitably. You are here with me and a tear drops. I'm not sure what happened to the walls. The wind is blowing and my face burns. I read your words. Your riddles. I went silent. Shocked perhaps by the audacity. It was a surprise.

I have my own riddles. This. I have known this song for more than thirty years. It always touched me. Now I know why. Now that I understand the words. It makes sense. Imagine not having that love anymore.

I have sounds to keep me company, like this one and this one. Pay close attention to the words.

It seems like we always run in circles, doesn't it?

And no, I don't want to drop you a note. Have you become single recently? Are you in town? Are you going to give me an ultimatum like the last time?

Things have changed. I am tired. I am exhausted. I have no energy for games. Never have, but now. Now things are different. Time does weigh into the equation. Now that runs so deep. I do carry you in the heavy stone my heart has turned. A broken stone.

I remember the dates, the scenes. The words and how far away we were from being a couple.

I wonder, did I disgust you? Because I know you didn't respect me. I wonder why. Was it because you had my heart in your hands?

As you can see, I am still asking the same questions seven years later. Still running in circles, but I am so, so far away.

The Roseate Spoonbill

2024-06-17T18:17:00.000-04:00

The Roseate Spoonbill

Photo by Dan Garver

Location: Loxahatchee National Wildlife Refuge in Boynton Beach.

I am an avid enthusiast of beauty. Few things I like more than the sky and the ocean. And birds carry so much intrinsic beauty. I don't write much anymore. Somehow my energy has diverged. I feel stifled by life at the moment.

Writing

2023-02-23T15:07:00.000-05:00

Unresolved pain. Nostalgia. Fire. Vivid dreams at night. Immense love.

I read the other day something an old friend once told me. Go back to what you were good at when you were a child. That's where your natural talent is. I go back, and so many things come up. So many interests. Infinite curiosity. I loved words when I was a child. But I also loved animals and nature. I also loved music and poetry. The beach made me go without sleep. I also loved to dance. I remember attracting people's comments while dancing at parties. Not because I was good but because I did my own thing.

I also liked cooking and baking from an early age. Books were also my private world.

But who am I now, forty years later?

I listen to Riccardo Cocciante, and my heart fills with raw emotion. How can someone be so good and write the most beautiful songs? I need to understand Italian better, but what I know and feel with his songs is beyond anything material.

The power of art has to move us. That strength.

Until

2022-12-14T19:01:00.002-05:00

I used to think I was good with words. Until

Today was a special day.

I am afraid there's no way the blend we are will ever change/disappear. For good or bad. You are with me in the things I see. The lasting memories. I move forward in the empty space that is possible. I carry your heart. I saw a leaf heart last night. I don't believe in signs, not anymore. But there it was. A big heart, a big leaf. And the memory of you. The blue memory of you. Marrying someone else will not change what we were.

I read the other day about biocentrism and how death doesn't really exist. How time doesn't exist. Sometimes I sense five years haven't really ~~happened~~ gone by. It's a physical experience. I relive our experiences in my head. I wish I had more memories. I wish I could remember more.

That's all I know.

At last, sound and scent.

Inspiration

2022-03-18T18:23:00.003-04:00

I am tired, and my body hurts. I have been studying non-stop for almost three years, and I haven't had the time to think (an exercise I praise and miss). Thinking connects me to feelings. I stand here a month a half away from graduating. I persisted when I wanted to rest. I rested when it was not possible to keep going. I pushed my physical and intellectual abilities and limitations to obtain this degree. I am inspired to help others.

A friend today commented on how good of a student I am. I am not. My attention is fleeing and flows away from me. It's just 100% effort and a constant battle to focus and concentrate.

I had to stop looking and finding meaning because I was burning. The candle burns at both ends. That poem is not mine but suits me well. The journey is long, and it has just started. This experience has taught me so much more than a skill. I am inspired. I hope the sacrifice will be worth it.

High on a Mountain

2022-03-18T18:12:00.001-04:00

Found this song recently and it did find me too. It is a song for posterity.

High on a Mountain

Ola Belle Reed

High on the mountain oh wind a blowing free thinking about the days that used to be.

High on the mountain standing all alone wondering where the years of my life have flown.

As I look at the valleys down below they were as green just as far as I could see.

As my memory turned oh how my heart did yearn for you and the days that used to be.

High on the mountain oh wind a blowing free thinking about the days that used to be.

High on the mountain standing all alone wondering where the years of my life have flown.

Oh, I wonder if you ever think of me or if time has blotted out your memory.

As I listen to that breeze whisper gently through the trees I'll always cherish what you meant to me.

High on the mountain oh wind a blowing free thinking about the days that used to be.

High on the mountain standing all alone wondering where the years of my life have flown.

Graduation - Master's in Human Nutrition

2022-03-18T18:05:00.003-04:00

Photo by Dan Garver.

May 1st, 2022. In Bridgeport, Connecticut.

May 1st is Labor Day in Brazil. Cheers to hard work and dedication! The date couldn't be more appropriate.

Twin Flames

2022-03-12T18:48:00.005-05:00

Photo by Dan Garver

Title by J9: Twin Flames

Hard to define where we start and where we end. I know I still carry your heart with me. When I saw this image, I thought of what we are. One relentless flame burning in the midst of what is happening around. I sometimes do not know who I am anymore. Do you see how in this picture there are two flames in one? I still don't understand how that is possible.

The sound of "Take My Leave of You" echoes in the house. I am not alone. I am never alone, and yet you left.

This past week was crazy. Busy, intense. Full of tears. You, my soldier. Me, your queen. I carry much of the soldier inside of me.

"Should we meet in the sunrise, stand one last time as two"

I wish you could listen to this song. I hope you can understand the way I feel it. But you were never good at understanding me, were you?

I sometimes wonder how much of your professed love was real, authentic. None?

Walk down to the water
Stare out across the blue
Look to where our love was stolen
I take my leave of you.

What I'd give to be unbroken
Find again the love we knew
But now with our past around you
I take my leave of you.

Shall we meet in the sunrise
Stand one last time as two
I look deep into your eyes
Can I take my leave of you?

I look deep into your blue eyes, and I know the answer. I still see you. I have a map of you ingrained in me. Like time has not gone by in my head. You are me.

To Someone

2022-01-06T10:21:00.001-05:00

The architecture of the city is plural and restless. Your voice comes and goes. The sky was pale blue today. White here and there. Clouds. Whispers.

Our dialog is more vivid now. I still see how intense your eyes are. You come and go from me. But I know you never really leave. At least, that is the illusion that keeps me - going? I see patterns. They make sense. Like you made sense a while ago. I can't reason with Love, can I? Love, this palpable, irrational measurement of attachment and desire.

I don't know if you are the same anymore. The same I knew.

Did I ever know you? It doesn't matter because you fit like a symptom fits a disease. You fit my fantasy. My fantasy was so concrete and so tangible. I play us in my head. If I had. If you had. But history doesn't rewrite itself.

I can't walk down the street to try and find you.

Unchanged sea. Under the same sheltering sky. I love you.

The Monologue That Never Ends

2021-03-03T16:15:00.002-05:00

Winter seems long, long, and intense - some type of fog. It's a hazy Winter. It is dark out, it is too early to be dark. I had a dream the night before last. You were with me. Our eyes were twins - sad eyes. Deep eyes. We were smiling at that thought. You are a distraction from the mundane. Ocean Eyes, just like the song. I tell myself it is for the better to talk to you from a distance. The ocean you showed me is vibrant and almost tastes like Summer. I want to dive into those waters and never leave. I want the Summer to be back so that I can be at the beach savoring my solitude. There is no better place than the ocean. The ocean in your arms. I open my eyes - it is still Winter. The landscape has not changed since. Since the day you left.

Someone You Loved

2020-12-09T19:09:00.004-05:00

Someone I loved

This is for you, who came and went. I carry your heart, you know I do. You never left. There was never just me. We have always been two, two in one. I am still talking to your heart. Call me crazy. From my window I new lights. New colors. The horizon is bright.

and

yet

Are you tired of my voice in your head? I can't not talk to you. Everywhere I turn, I still see you. There are memories that persist. Dreams that come back. Voices that I hear. You are. I wonder every day. From this tiny window. Birds fly across the beautiful cold sky. They are going somewhere. Living perhaps? It is a shame how things turned out. The warrior who didn't fight. The queen who was never crowned.

Empty spaces, time echoing around my face. The absurd loneliness of finding that I am nothing but a shell. e. e. cummings have mercy.

Terrence Malick

2020-08-16T13:40:00.072-04:00

To The Wonder by Terrence Malick

He combines music and image in such a way that my senses tremble every single time I watch one of his films. Slow and captivating, an intricate narrative into what happens inside of the soul. To The Wonder captures well my present self. Here and there. Two women in one. One that lets herself be loved by the love that loves her. I also am another woman who loves your blue eyes and the sense of being one.

Intertwined somewhere in there, a sense of found and lost faiths. Attentive eyes into the miracle and deep state of being alive and all its wonders and miseries.

I no longer wait for. I exist in the present tense. A less intense soul, pervaded by a more subtle taste of colors and wonder. You are my shadow, still. The presence I now know. The same way Terrence portrays the broken souls and the yearning to belong in To The Wonder. Is life really a miracle? A dream? The questions remain: why have I met you? Why did I seek you in the first place? And why have I saught you for so long?

Your name comes back. It haunts me in the mundane affairs my life has turned into. But has it ever been any different? Maybe before I just did not know what to call you, you had no name. Now I remember way too well what it is like to love with desperation. To feel someone under your own skin, another person ingrained in me. To live as if we were the same flesh and blood. I also know what it is like to be left with a fingerprint in the soul, a thorn of sorts, which forces me to handle the constant pain. But also reminds me that you exist.

I wonder, too. Sluggishly, the days unfold. In their light and dark hues, I drown in the air as if I could masticate my feelings for you. I try and fail. What have you done? I dare you to try and eliminate our love as if it could be easily swallowed and digested by the past. I dare you, how can you think that by leaving, you would end us. Leaving me before, leaving me now.

How can I describe, in a fresh way, what it feels like to be left behind? How can I take a step towards a new heart and a new skin? Why can't the sun just burn the old one and revere the bright future ahead?

I bite my fingers. I doodle in my several pieces of paper and notebooks. A tear escapes my eye as if it could scream at you the loudest love that ever was, and yet it can't. It is not loud enough. You left home.

I dream with you, my eyes open. You follow me in bed, I risk my fragile sanity. I hear your voice and your command. The instant that I was yours, I was complete. Being one with you. It was a light that I have never seen before. The memory of us that follows me. The deepest scar.

The strings that attach me to life are slowly shredding. You and you alone with your non-love for me. How can I love someone who tears the ropes of my life apart? Reason fails me. The vulgar dichotomy of reason and heart, or maybe there is more to it than meets the eye and this existence.

Somewhere inside of me, I knew, and I know. I belong to you. Perhaps not here and now, in this particular fragment of reality. But elsewhere somewhere, where reason does not exist, we are. And all there is reciprocal love and the ongoing magical sensation of being one.

I belong to you with the strength of Titans and the beauty of the most delicate love there is. You are the eerie day after the storm where everything is calm and bright, and silence prevails. A day in which the wind blows so subtly that the tree leaves dance, saturated by a golden light.

Whatever is left of me, it is still yours, even if you don't want it. You can leave me, but you can't escape from my love. To The Wonder.

What Happens To The Heart

2020-07-16T16:40:00.001-04:00

Happens To The Heart

I wonder what is going to happen to you. Now and tomorrow when you get tired of your new life. When the new way becomes old, just like I became old. What is going to happen to you, when you realize there's no way out from this. There is no way you can hide. There is no way to erase it. The scar is too deep, the memories too intense. Maybe it is just me. But sometimes I feel like it's not. That the fog of us also embraces you. You change jobs. Move away and still. What happens to the heart? What you are going to be tomorrow and the day after tomorrow. I don't want you just when I want you. Because I never stopped wanting you. You are the one my heart has chosen. Not now, not yesterday. Many years ago. It is like being hungry for someone. For your pores, your scent. Animal and spiritual in one. Bright and dark. You are my prison and my secret. I can't escape it. The fiber of me is tangled in the blue that you are. What happens to the heart? Cut, bleeding, broken. My voice silenced by you leaving and yet still present within you. Your voice echoing - the bell of you ringing in my soul as it has always been. Happens to the Heart.

The Hummingbird's Heart

2020-06-30T19:24:00.001-04:00

Sometimes I think of the lives I didn’t live. Like the life of a hummingbird whose heart can beat for over a thousand times a minute. Such a tiny body and yet, so full of energy and muscle power to travel around, with such mesmerizing grace and speed. Sometimes I also think about the life we didn’t have together. How I fool myself thinking it is ok. It is not ok to walk around with a broken heart. It is not ok to relive our brief moments together as if I were watching a movie—so many misunderstandings. I don’t know what hurts more: if the fact I don’t matter (to you) or the fact that you don’t get me. I can’t have my old life back. I can’t live this one either. I have been waiting for things to change, and it has all been in vain. I miss you when I don’t miss you. I think of you when I don’t think of you. My heart, whose power is not strong enough to beat a thousand times per minute, is tired. It is broken. And yet, it recognizes that its main purpose is to love you. It might not beat like the hummingbird’s elegant heart, it is heavier and broken, but it refuses to accept my command. It has a mind of its own. It is stubborn, scarred, a tiny blue heart—the one I carry within yours.

Photo by JM

The story that cannot be told

2020-04-09T22:31:00.000-04:00

There are stories that simply cannot be told. Any version won't do them justice. More details, fewer details: irrelevant. The simplified version, an elaborate one: irrelevant. If I had to tell this story I have in mind to an audience, they would certainly tell me I am crazy and I would probably agree with them. Some stories make no sense. There are no plausible answers. These stories have no beginning and no end. They just exist as if they were part of something that transcends the version of the story we tell ourselves, which we might think is the true version. In this story, there are two couples living far away from each other. One couple lived in South America. They got married in 1972. She was ten years older than him. An odd couple if you ask me. The other couple lived in North America. I don't have many details on this couple, I just know it was a somewhat turbulent relationship, just like the one in South America. The South American couple had two kids, one in 1974 and another one in 1978. The couple in North America had two kids as well, one in 1976 and another one in 1974. The important thing to remember is that the 1978 baby met the 1976 baby in 2017. She had a stripped dress on and it was a breezy afternoon. Easter Sunday. She was in a bad mood that day. So was he. Their eyes locked in a store, the only store open in town on Easter Sunday. She needed to buy canned peaches to make a cake, but decided to grab some oranges on the other side of the store. On her way to the register, their paths crossed. What she remembers is a magnetic blue light sucking her attention. The blue light were his eyes. The ocean had the same color that afternoon when she went to the beach. She brought music with her and a smile. He called her that night. He had her number because he waited for her outside of the store and spoke to her. Invited her to dinner. Got her number. Her face facing the West. Feeling the wind. She had waited for him. Would it be exaggeration if I said that she had waited for him all of her life? He was nervous, grabbed a small piece of paper to write her number. She giggled. 2017, they had already invented personal phones, battery powered, able to send and receive written messages. It was common then to just call the number to make yourself known. How do I want to retell this story? How can I avoid the same details. The bad parts. How can I remember all of it? Some memories are already fading.

He eventually left her. She never forgot him. Even now when she looks at the stars she thinks of him. It is more than just thinking of someone. It's almost like she is two in one.

Rose's Nail Salon & The Twin Flame

2020-02-19T11:58:00.000-05:00

It's in between the lines that I find you. The subtle associations that my mind creates, but is it really my mind that creates these "signs"? If so, how?

Late last night, I was traveling in a car going East, and I saw, on my right hand side, a nail salon named Rose's Nails. In the midst of lights, sounds and words, you came back to me, once again. The significance roses have had in our lives. Funnily enough, it was in that salon that I got my nails done the week of our first date. I never paid attention to the salon's name until last night.

When I saw the salon last night, I remembered I was a walk-in and that the person who helped me was a gentleman, who claimed he had a twin flame. I went to him a few times, he was strange. I remember he looked like he had this pain inside of him. I remember he said that doing nails was a way to serve others. Gave me this lecture on how Christ would wash other people's feet. But something was odd about him. He was not like the other people in there. He looked like something was amiss.

In one of my visits, he said his twin flame had left him. I remember asking him why didn't he go after her and he told me the ball was on her court. You actually called me one time when I was sitting on his chair and that's how I think I mentioned to him that you were different and if he had heard of something called the "twin flames". I might have asked him if he heard of "twin flames". That's when he told me a little about his story. He looked devastated talking about her.

I called the salon today to find out if he still works there. I was told the whole crew is new, which matches the info I found on Yelp. It's been so long, I am not surprised. I wish I had his number to call him and ask what else his twin flame experience has taught him, maybe I would understand ours better or find clues to get me some answers.

You asked me if I have ever encountered anything about "us" in the literature. I told you about a movie that was based on a book. I don't trust the online websites that talk about twin flames. Aside from the book I mentioned to you, the man at the nail salon and a friend of mine in NY who claims she met hers, I have no other source of info. I want to read my Akashic records still and do I past life regression to see if I can sort things out.

Am I recreating what we were? Why there are so many associations, countless coincidences? Last night I woke up at 2:22 am and couldn't sleep well for some time afterwards. I felt-feel so restless. Sometimes it feels like I am running out of time. Sometimes it feels like something is about to happen. What's life trying to tell me?

I don't want to live this double life - I need answers.

2019

2019-12-31T12:25:00.000-05:00

Image by Dan Garver - Title: The Twin Boats

Here we are again, at the verge of another year that ends.

This year in particular left me with many stories to tell. I have yet to make up with myself and reunite my soul to music. My father passed away. I started school. It feels like I live another life. I feel somewhat safe. There is a shy hope peaking at the horizon. And yet there were many moments in which I just succumbed to thoughts of you and delusional hopes.

What is in me that sings to this new cycle? I visited Turkey in July. Somehow my excitement towards things has diminished. I have been remolding my perceptions of the world. The enthusiasm that I once exhibited somehow has been hiding. Tango feeling has been hiding. I saw you in 2019. I looked in your eyes again. Amidst the fog. I was surprised there wasn't much emotion on your part. You are always a shadow. I am afraid you will always be. We are twin boats that collide because they share the same route. So, if there's one image that can describe the year, it's this image that I named The Twin Boats. My year was foggy. Slow, sluggish. There was good and there was bad. The possibility Manolo could have been sick scared me to death. I am tired and feel defeated in a way that I can't explain. We are still made of the same essence. Dreaming the same dream and yet thousands of miles away.

Song:

Nao Me Dou Longe de Ti

Assim te quero guardar
Como se mais nada houvesse
Nem futuro, nem passado
De tanto, tanto te amar
Pedi a Deus que trouxesse
O teu corpo no meu fado

Memories

2019-11-19T15:27:00.003-05:00

You sent me an email this week to talk about memories. Not sure what memories you are thinking of. I know the ones I have and the ones I treasure. They come and go, sometimes randomly. I don't pick them, they pick me. I think of us - I try not to. But I can't help it. I think of us urging to see each other. I remember the day I left work early to see you. Come to think of it, we were a recipe for disaster. But I could not reason with my heart. I still can't.