I, Who Called Love My Hope For

Brazil Is Where I Have To Be, Where I Have My Roots.

No It Is Not Easy To Write. It Is As Hard As Breaking Rocks. Sparks And Splinters Fly Like Shattered Steel.

And I Want To Be Held Down. I Don't Know What To Do With The Horrifying Freedom That Can Destroy Me.

The Only Truth Is That I Live. Sincerely, I Live. Who Am I? Well, That's A Bit Much.

Putting My Hand In Someone Else’s Has Always Been My Definition Of Happiness. Before I Fall Asleep, Often - In That Small Struggle Not To Lose Consciousness And Go Into The Greater World - Often, Before I Get Up The Courage To Go Into The Vastness Of Sleep, I Pretend That Someone Has My Hand In Theirs, And Then I Go, Go To That Enormous Absence Of Form That Is Sleep. And When Even After That I Don’t Have Courage, I Dream.