morning, 10:30, and it's so late, but i can't get out of bed. i linger, the phone, the messages, the news, the words just rushing into my head through my eyes. another day, and it's sunny outside, i don't need the blankets, i'm gonna exercise, i need to work, get yourself together, hoje vai ser melhor, hoje vai começar a vida de novo, levanta, come, faz alguma coisa. 11h30, uma hora, already gone, it's so silent, vou escutar música, i can't stand the silence, i keep talking to myself, long conversations that make no sense, but take hours and hours and hours, e eu aqui, deitado nessa cama. there's no space for music, i'm sorry for my absence to myself. 12:30, i'm so hungry, what's going on with my life? my stomach gets me out of bed, café da manhã, ou almoço? it's been weeks that i haven't had lunch, because breakfast doesn't allow it to happen. such failure... que saudades, que saudades, que saudades, pounding on the edge of brain, de novo de novo de novo. i need to go home, i'm gonna leave academia, i need a simple life, but i like what i do, but i dislike what it asks of me. quero andar na praia, quero acordar com o sol na cara, quero encontrar meus amigos, quero me sentir calmo. quero me sentir calmo. quero me sentir calmo. i need to learn how to breathe again, when was the last time? yoga doesn't count, i'm controlling myself, that is practice. preciso sentir as horas leves, voltar pra mim mesmo. i feel so lonely, this city is so big, i wish i could be somewhere else. atravessar os oceanos, ver o céu, pisar no chão. there's no ground in this place, nothing is real, just my feeling of irreality. so silent so silent... eu tinha tanta coisa pra sentir, pra fazer, pra falar, pra pensar, pra trocar... but now i can only go back to bed. no, i'll drag myself out, take a walk, dar uma volta no quarteirão, bicicleta, rua, esquina, dobra à direita, dobra à esquerda, vai em frente... 17h, 18h, 19h, 20h. i'm smoking too much, tenho que fumar menos, um a menos a cada dia, até eu não fumar mais. todo dia todo dia, let me just go. escureceu, i wish i could be getting up somewhere else. muito silêncio aqui, esqueci como se escuta música, esqueci como se dança, preciso dançar...

they say that one cannot split form from content, that content makes the form, and that form makes the content. the way one thing exists is also (obviously) the existence of that thing. if i shout or if i cry or if a whisper the same words, the sentences are not the same, because the feeling is different, because the form is different. they also say that mourning is work, the slow process of dealing with a sudden absence: it demands efforts. i keep the forms, that's my work. the shoes, the piece of paper, the things left behind stay in the same place. the hope of sunny days, of an open time to come, is embedded in the buildings, the streets, the houses, the seas, and the sky. i keep them. even after the content is not there anymore, at least the form will be. and i see it. and i imagine it. and i smell it. it's not denial, but a way of letting my affect slowly spread onto other places and things, to detach from its previous forms until it is everywhere and the pain is stored somewhere different, closer to the love. it takes time, and it takes breathing. that's my way of keeping the future alive, the future of a world, the future of the world as i imagined it to be, the future of my world too: inside, outside. of keeping alive, of moving even in times when my body feels so heavy, and my eyes keep constantly asking to be closed.

to you

every second with you is like:

a deep breath

a breeze on my forehead

a long gaze on a falling leave

a tear forming on the corner of my eye

the arrival of nice smells

a light gesture with the big toe

half-sight half asleep

the most peaceful dream

a twilight after an all-nigther

the subtle certainty of goodness

 the silence of love