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There are trees in our city they are dreams into the new avenues' sky that run away from the buildings where we hide our disillusions. A nossa cidade tem árvores são sonhos no céu das avenidas novas que fogem dos prédios onde escondemos as nossas

I want to remember the colours of my grey dream and the geography of valleys and mountains rivers and deserts seas and oceans but my subconscious only draws decadent cities yes those are very tangible crumbled in the blood that flows through the building

Red flower flush of gardens impregnated of carbon dioxide from passing cars in the neighborhood at more than 50km/h do not realizing that the flower opened by day's heat smiles to bees butterflies and other insects that smash against their

For a long time I would like to talk to you about a fabulous French artist, Agatha Ukeo, my friend, from my age group but as young as my grandchildren, because her creative mind is airy, colorful, and untimely. She invents characters that seem naïf but

Wait we are always waiting for the right time the wrong person the surprising event the unexpected love the sudden death why not? right now in the car parking waiting for. Espera estamos sempre à espera do momento certo da pessoa errada do facto