Tag: London (Página 2 de 5)
Six. My number. My lucky. My light. My Saint.
The number of those who guides me e protect me. The number of my prosperity. He crossed the ocean with me and made me free of all dangerous and bad energy. He Listened to me and pulled me out of sadness when I cried.
When I asked for an aswer, he put this door in front of me with his number. The proof that it was for me. That he listen to me. That everything is on my way as it should be. Now I can feel.
One year and two months away from Brazil. Four different houses. The third in London. My legs never transited around that much. My luggages? Heroinas! But this time Im moving in to a place that I chose. A place that I wanted. A place that I call “mine”. In somehow, its mine.
After looking for so long. London have never been that big before. I have seen different streets, faces, prices. I fell homeless when I was feeling at home! But everything comes at the time, right? Yes and because I wanted to stay, it came.
I stopped thinking about ‘going back’, I stopped thinking about ‘how is it going to be tomorrow’, I just stopped. I decided to live the present for the first time. Enjoy this place, this moment, these days, no matter for how long.
I faced your thorns, London. Now I have your relief. All new once and again. I feel light. I feel good. I feel save. While I want. This is freedom.
Number 6. Where I know all the good things will happen. As the song say: “Today is where your book begins the rest still unwritten!”
And there’s nothing that I like more than a blank page! Pen’s are ready for my new 6. For my new season.
When I left Brazil, a year ago, I had the feeling that part of my heart was staying there. Maybe the full heart. In the beginning of this adventure I fell myself lost, I was much more in South America than in Europe. I thought I would neve feel home here, in this side of the ocean.
People used to say that “home” is where your heart is. Well, if its so, my home is Brisbane-in Australia- and Rio de Janeiro, the two only places in the world that makes me feel confortable, no matter what. But this is just a “saying”, not a rule. The true is that my heart wasn’t here at all.
As time goes by you start to belong to the city, in somehow. You create a life, a routine and you start to feel yourself more. Physically, as well. It happened to me.
I left London for summer holidays, went to Spain and Portugal, and talking with a friend about this I said: “Now I dont feel that my heart is in Brazil anymore, “he” is pretty much here, not necessarily in London, he is just here, loose in the world. “
That is how I feel today. So my friend answered me:
“Its better like this, right? It means you can live anywhere. Your home might be everywhere!”
Perhaps he is right. Perhaps is just a feeling that may dissapear or, perhaps my heart finally crossed the ocean. Finally. And because he did I feel complete.
I missed you London. I missed you everyday. I missed the voices of my friends around me, I missed the woman Im when Im here, I missed all your museums and theatres. I just missed. Yes, you are already getting me crazy but, I need to give you a chance because I need to give a chance for me to live you better.
I was lost, but we only know that we love when we leave…Cliche? Of course, but which reality isn’t it?
My heart call you home and ran after you quickly. I dont know for how long, but for now you are my home. You are where my heart is. And Im fine. Im back home.
I have heared this word a lot for those past months. I have used it a lot to miself as well.
To leave London; To leave my home; To leave my job.
UK leaving EU.
Yesterday I slept being part of EU. Today I woke up out. They are out.
If you asked me how am I feeling I will say: “Im fine. I dont care, there is a lot of other countrys to live, if I had to leave here. Also, I know, I can always come back to my home.”
But if you come closer, look deep into my eyes and wait one second, you are gonna hear my real feeling:
“Im sad. Im feeling a stranger in someone’s land. Untill yesterday I fel I was part of here, I was allowed to cross the street. Today, when I got the news, I fel completely distant. More foreign and immigrant than ever.”
As I asked a friend at work if he wasnt feeling anything different and he said the same: “There is something inside that is not right.”
I know. But we had to go to work and live our day.
I dont feel bad because of me, because Im living her, however, for the rest of the world. The most people who have voted ‘yes’ to leave, did it because is against immigration. I really understant that but, which country has no immigration? Could not the govermment to control in a better way?
What upset me the most is to see what humans are becoming. People voted against the others one. They dont tolerate us, they dont tolerate themself. In mid 21 century, we are living the most individualistic moment. After all the world has been through, we continue to choose thinking about ourselfs only and not as a nation.
Many of these people, who voted, have no idea about what is happening, they just dont want strangers inside their houses. They are not worry about economic or even politic. They just wanted to leave. How is gonna be tomorrow? They seem not to care.
But why do that…Live and let us live.
For one second I wanted to leave as well. I wanted to go home. To go back to Italy or to Brazil, to my parentes lap. I wanted to leave, because I didnt want to be in a place where I know Im not welcome. Its true that they dont even look at to us and may not paying attention in anything. But this energy around has no explanation. The smile of who won and the tear of who is now afraid of the future.
To vote was easy. To face the reality now its gonna be the point. Im watching for outside, as I dont feel part anymore. Lunch time at the restaurant, looking around the customers and thinking: Did they vote? Yes or not? What they think about it? They are sick of us, but they love our products and food. They want all the power, but they are leaving all behind.
I cant deny the feeling of being living this here, in London. One day, my kids, perhaps, will ask me how was this 24 of June 2016. I will say that was sad and huge. I dont want to think about the future now, as it may not change my life at all. We may have two years ahed to see what is goona happen. Not even the politicians knows. But today it did change. I fel small. Sitting in front of St Paul Cathedral, I did a pray asking for better days. And If this decision happened then, I hope it doesnt affect us in a bad way more than we are all have been affected by many others bad situations.
Oh London, just when everything was making sense…And I cant even blame you.
Menawhile our lives continue and I just need a new next day.
I believe that when we are in our period, woman of course, more than blood we put out all kinds of feelings. I believe that “comes down” anger, sadness, bad lovers, frustrations. Maybe that is why it hurts so much. Colic, an open internal wound.
It should not be so painful and hard to put out what remains within us. In all senses. So I believe that nature gives us, women, every month, a chance to remake, a new start with everything clean. So, I thought about everything that bothered me and hurted me in those last days and I send away along with everything that my body will not use more.
As I have done during these almost 10 months away from home.
I heard all kind of things- bad and good- and I have seen a lot as well. But I sent all away in my few days of renewal.
It hurts. It hurts everywhere inside and outside of me. But closing circle hurts. To Restart. But is the pain of all new again. And this month, in particular, more than send away what bothers me, I open myself to the new circle that will come. I’m ready. Im in love. I want to.
I looked in the mirror at the end of a working day and saw my eyes lighten as if to cry. Not this time. This time I saw what its about to come, because it’s all in my hands.
Until next month when it is renewed again.
Eleven years ago she opened the door of her house and said:
“Welcome to Australia!”
It was the first time I was traveling alone and would live away from my family. I had a mixture of emotions inside me. I wanted to cry and smile. I remember like it was yesterday. In fact, I can see it now, in front of me. I can hear her voice and feel exactly what I fel that day.
She hugged me and made me feel confortable. She put me in her life and in her family. She took care of me like a mother and daughter. I had Christmas present, birthday cake and the best dinners. She saw me grow for a year. But more than that, she made me feel at home. I was home.
When she drove me to the airport in the day of my return to Brazil, she looked into my eyes and asked:
“Why are not you happy? You are going to see your family, you are going home!”
“I know…but this is my home, I dont want to leave…”
Then she said that the world was too big and I was too young so I would have many places to travel and I could come back to Aussie anytime I wanted. Once and again she comforted me. Once and again she was right.
Since then I have thrown myself in different places and adventures. My gypsy heart does not stop and dreams deserve to come true. While I have feet I will cross all borders. But the true is the more I travel, the more I know Australia is my place. My soul belongs to there. It doesnt matter how long time has passed, it will always be my shelter and I can always come back.
Her hug, she may not know that, just gave this feeling to me and Im really thankful.
Eleven years ago she hugged a girl 20 years old, scared and excited at the same time with the days to come. Eleven years later she hugged a woman 31 years old, more mature but with the same dreams and shinning eyes.
Meet her here in London, at this moment, just prove to me that love and family survive to distance and time.
And our memories together, while talking having a cruise in Thames River, came to remind me that time was the time of my life!
Aos 2 anos e 8 meses ele teve q aceitar um novo bebê em casa. Gostando ou não havia ganhado uma irmã e, mesmo com todos os ciúmes e brigas, ele tornou-se um super irmão, simplesmente o melhor cara do mundo para aquela caçula.
Geminiano, distraído, desastrado e até meio folgado. Mas sensível, artista, gente do bem, coração de gigante. Estivemos juntos em todos os momentos cruciais da vida de cada um. Eu fui a primeira a saber quando ele teve a primeira namorada. E ele sempre foi meu porto seguro nas noites de pesadelo.
Ele fazia meus trabalhos de escola atrasados e comia meus ovos de chocolate. Atormentava-me até deixar-me bastante irritada e ver-me explodir! Mas era em sua cia que rolava o maior Rock N’ Roll no quarto de madrugada!
Eu nunca o tinha visto chorar, até o dia em que embarquei para a Austrália. Eu não tinha idéia das saudades que eu sentia dele, até o dia que voltei e o abracei até sentir sua alma.
Meu irmão herói que não deixava ninguém encostar em mim no colégio. Meu irmão ciumento que controlava o tamanho das minhas saias. Meu irmão cúmplice que me deu a mão sempre que eu quis desistir. Meu irmão parceiro de shows e baladas. Meu irmão amigo que divide segredos e confiança.
Meu irmão adulto que me presentou com a afilhada encantada mais linda e amada.
E em nossos desentendimentos, penso, que é quando mais nos entendemos. Não há o que fazer. Nos escolhemos lá em cima e juramos proteção eterna. E assim será. Quer ver minha fúria é mexer com ele.
Eu não sei se fui um presente bacana 31 anos atrás. Mas hoje, no seus 34, eu sei que o presente maior foi meu, chegar e ter você do lado. Pronto. Estava em segurança.
Feliz vida irmão melhor que há!
Não importa a distância geográfica, nos comunicamos através do coração.
Eu amo você!
180 Dias de Afastamento.
Assim será para a Presidente Dilma.
180 dias de discussões em redes sociais, bate bocas sem limites, ofensas e até término de amizades e namoros.
180 dias de alivio para uns e de tristeza para outros. A decepção de uma derrota. A vitória de uma Justiça.
180 dias de um país dividido. Um povo desunido mas que clama, desesperadamente, por dias melhores.
180 dias para que ela reflita sobre que fez e no que vem fazendo pelo nosso país. Ou, simplesmente, 180 dias de férias e relaxamento.
180 dias intermináveis para todos nós, brasileiros. Pois, seja qual for a decisão ao final, nada mais será como antes. Que bom. Que bom mesmo, porque precisamos de mudanças, precisamos de mais choques como esses. Melhor dizendo, nós não: eles. Nós já sofremos choques o suficiente.
180 dias de Temer e seus ministros. Suas surpresas desagradáveis e nossos corações na garganta. Marcar o calendário nunca foi tão arriscado.
180 dias de um final indefinido. Podemos ter Temer temporário e Dilma voltando a pedalar em torno do Palácio do Planalto.
Seja qual for esse final, ele representará o início de toda uma mudança necessária. Representará todos os nossos gritos desses últimos anos. E eu espero, com todo meu coração, que esse final una nosso país de uma ponta a outra, pois não há mudança sem grandes revoluções. Nós já entramos nessa guerra, agora só sairemos vitoriosos.
180 dias para o fechamento de um ciclo.
Que a Justiça seja feita. E que seja para o melhor. O melhor para o Brasil!
Enquanto isso, continuaremos levantando cedo para trabalhar, as Olimpíadas acontecerão, ainda que haja desordem e nós continuaremos a sorrir, porque somos assim. Graças a Deus! Que não nos falte paciência e Fé, pois esses 180 dias se transformarão em infinitas emoções.
Há uns dois anos, ou talvez mais, uma pessoa muito querida que eu confio de olhos fechados perguntou-me:
” O que na sua vida você não consegue deixar de fazer nenhum dia?”
Sem pestanejar eu respondi:
“Pronto”, ela falou. Você já sabe o que é e o que vai ser em sua vida.
Levei um susto. Como pude ignorar isso por tanto tempo. Decidi abrir meu leque profissional um pouco mais e encaixar em primeiro plano o que tem me movido nos últimos meses. O que sempre esteve na minha frente.
Escrever me alivia. Permite-me ser quem eu quiser e, claro, ser eu mesma. Escrever protege-me de julgamentos na cara, pois visto minha máscara e coloco no papel todas as minhas ilusões, meus sonhos, minhas invenções. Nomes inexistentes, pensamentos incoerentes e pessoas jamais vistas.
Cenas não vividas mas bem dialogadas. Na minha mente de escritora tudo cabe. Eu é que não caibo em mim. Minhas palavras são minhas verdades. Mesmo que inventadas.
Escrever é meu refúgio contra a tristeza e meu momento de grandeza. É o que reconheço em mim desde sempre. Nasceu comigo. Nasceu pra mim.
Hoje, comecei o curso que tanto ansiava: News Journalism! E, para a minha alegria, minha expectativa não estava errada. Não podia ter sido melhor. Fez meu dia mais leve e feliz! Pessoas novas e diferentes. Outras idades, outras faces, outras experiências. Feito uma criança quando descobre sabores novos, deliciei-me em 7 horas de aula sobre Jornalismo Literário- em inglês- e entendi:
Mais do que uma paixão, uma profissão. Uma arte que completa a outra. Metades que se encaixam. Eu sou o que eu acredito ser.
Não sei o que será do amanhã. Não sei onde estarei e nem quero pensar nisso agora. Só sei que o Universo está girando, os dados estão rolando e eu, em uma mesa de aposta, deixo a vida decidir. E cada detalhe será reportado por mim.
Já dizia a amada Virginia Woolf:
“Escrever é que é o verdadeiro prazer. Ser lido é um prazer superficial.”
Façamos das horas nossa história e reportagem.