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  • I need a very young veggie

    Meat on my plate? Only if it’s dancing reggae!

  • The meat has been overcooked

    , ,

    It gives me chills
    to imagine a global
    and personal revolution
    starting so simply,
    so immediately,
    just by stopping
    the eating of dead animals.

    A tiny gesture
    with a giant impact.

    Fire the barbecue chef
    living inside you —
    the one who insists,
    the one who pretends not to hear.

    Because the meat,
    honestly,
    has been overcooked
    for a long time.

  • ❤️ Tomatinhos

    ,

    In the daily harvest of tomatoes,
    little tomatoes,
    heart-shaped tomatoes.

    Na colheita diária
    de tomate tomatinho
    tomate coraçãozinho

    Little tomatoes that grew in my compost bed. Some in the shape of hearts. ❤️

  • Then I heard other people

    ,

    I built an opinion
    from TV reports
    while sitting on a comfortable couch,
    throwing out clever lines
    triggered by nothing more
    than a raised eyebrow.

    Then I heard other people
    repeating the same rehearsed phrases,
    and it hit me,
    those thoughts weren’t mine.
    It hurt.

    So I went quiet
    and started rebuilding.

    I learned an opinion
    is never finished,
    and touching it
    is always painful,
    especially on mornings
    like this one,
    reading the brutal map
    of incarceration in Brazil    ,
    letting the discomfort
    do its work.

  • When my digital net met the real world

    , ,
    My non-digital skills in the middle of the Peruvian Amazon.

    Where I was born, I learned to fish with a very special net.
    It was my digital net, cast into a virtual sea.
    Ten years learning, fishing, sometimes even teaching,
    enough stories to fill a small boat.

    Then I realized I had been living on an island.
    So I took my little boat and rowed far across that sea.
    I found a massive continent,
    analog and real, sometimes surreal.

    My boat made no sense in all that land.
    So I kept walking, looking for people
    to tell my stories to,
    but no one understood the way I fished.

    I walked until I found a river, ready to show them.
    But my digital net didn’t work there,
    no electricity in sight.

    I didn’t eat for a while.
    I got thinner.
    And I learned.

    I learned to eat fruit.

    And maybe that’s how I grew,
    switching nets, switching worlds,
    combing someone else’s hair on a rocky floor.