silence in the city that never sleeps
silence in the city that never sleeps

There is something soft and sweet
About being the first to know your own news
The first to be inspired by your own thoughts
The first to shine in the sun of your dreams

-you can pretend, be someone else for awhile
feel the clouds take over and the world bend
just a little more for you, as you pass by-

Holding your head exactly where it is supposed to be
Neither too high, nor lower than you should
To be seen and heard
To be entitled to the absurd

There is something cosmic and colourfully charged
When becoming one as you face a jungle of faces
A sway motion in the tides of a reproductive future
When plunging into truths of forgotten places

Being is freeing.



constelações, aglomerados mágicos
constelações, aglomerados mágicos

Há uma respiração ténue
Nesse desarrume dos teus livros
Nesse pó das tuas fotografias
Nesses dias que já não lembras

Um cheiro breve a chuva infiltrada
A pulmões cheios de magia ocupada
A sede de uma pele que seja capa
A comboios de fumo e flores de nada

Passa o tempo e o fumo também
Ficas tu, eu ou as migalhas de furtivos pensamentos
Aglomerados em novelos da tua lã?

Ou era a minha? A minha lã
Misturada com neve, salpicos de areia
E uma boa colherada de desequilíbrio
Que gravita à nossa volta

E se desvenda mais e mais


tulip field
homenagem à Primavera, e ao primeiro país que me acolheu

Espero morrer todos os dias.
Espero ver-me ao espelho e reconhecer algo diferente cada dia. Uma nova lição, um tentar de novo, uma maior consciência, uma maior compaixão.

Espero morrer todos os dias.
Espero deixar no dia anterior os tecidos mortos do meu corpo, as talhas vazias, os restos incompletos e as radiografias externas.

Espero morrer todos os dias.
Quero mostrar a minha verdade dançar os gestos reais que há em mim.
Quero esticar a minha alma, quero que caibam melhor outras almas.

Espero morrer todos os dias.
Quero rir-me do meu dia anterior, quero rir, rir até a barriga doer. Quero dizer que gosto, dizer que não, fazer bem, fazer para crescer.

Espero morrer todos os dias.
Quero acordar e respirar o ar da liberdade.
Quero que os meus poros se desorganizem. Quero rearrumá-los outra e outra vez, até que a luz dos vitrais se rompa e o sol ilumine tudo o que eu sou.

Espero morrer todos os dias.

Espero morrer hoje,
e amanhã acordar,
e acolher a vida infinitamente diferente que me é dada.

new Address

danceeeMusic playing from the day I was born
Filtered lights presenting me on stage
I’ve danced with you, tied and torn
Realising this dance would lead me out of my cage

Our dancing grew closer with the passing of years
I enjoyed the routine, the audience, the spotlight
I leaned on you as often as my travelling fears
I relied on common thoughts and avoided my plight

The comfort of your arms and the company of everyday strangers
Seemed to emanate from tunes that conduced my movements
But the beating of My life was trapped under each pore
The music kept going but my absence eventually sore

I begin to slowly remove the clutter of sounds
Like a wave in the sea leaving shore for its deep
My heart beats stronger and makes room in new ground
The sole purpose of my truth which you gave me to keep

It is not that I feel you no more
Nor that I wish to cast a whole in the past
I need to feel you closer than before
In a true dance where our hearts are one

Time has given space for my solo dance
My time to play my side of the chess
My space to connect, my fighting chance
My time to discover Your new address

Northern Lights

Aurora borealis, Northern Norway
Aurora borealis, Northern Norway

Lights brightening the faces of unintended darkness
Life shining in the numb alleys and silent snow
Never has black and white coexisted in such stillness
Never have I felt a world of peace in a cold glow

There is one hour left for me in this train
Some time I willfully stole from life’s adventure queen
I want to grab hold of the feelings that drain
I want to laugh and cry and shout and scream

As if I could be the moving vehicle of others’ baggage
As if I could redeem the pain and transcend the sorrow
Yet I find I am but a soul in this long lineage
Searching for the next soul to borrow

Never had I imagined that in silence and freeze
A fire would still burn and grow in front of my eyes
A white carpet would welcome my breeze
A dark moon would strip my disguise


calmaIt was a vast ocean of unknowns
Parallel equations to solve within a heartbeat
It was an ocean that inside of me had grown
There were millions of species for me to greet

The ocean found its way in
I thought I had stepped onto it, chosen it: I was wrong
The ocean drops infamously and drowns my every dream
The ocean scratched the lie out of where I think I belong

There is a clever tie in the waving of the water
So clever, that I can just jump and feel its edge
But do I dare swim under the seams of my dreams
Do I fall back and deny my former pledge

This is no apologetic breeze
No telling of a wretched soul
This is a momentary freeze
Upon a life living itself as whole

Dominant Strategies

abismo (1)Our feet invariably walk over the edges.
A decision, a new perspective, a new opportunity or a hidden one. An adventure in the shape of just another day. The edge of the unpredictable, uncontrollable, rushes in through our fingers and branches out to awaken each nerve of our body.

Our lives are constantly touching the edge of their essence.
Truly living is a radical attitude: not because it’s dangerous (but it might be) or because it soldiers on amidst a mass of fabricated rules. But because it dares to plunge into the root of one’s essence*. It’s a conscious balance between the edge of desire and the arcade of self.

There is an edge of life with every beat of our reaching hands.

 *Radical – radix/radicis – “going to the origin, essential”.