unicidades

I am reading To Kill A Mockingbird and loving it.

I left Porto Alegre, at age of 23, holding a huge teddybear on a plane to Orlando, 11 years ago.

Sunset Sailing By Michelle Murphy Dania Beach - May 2012 The evening is humid, I feel dizzy – Sweaty. The ocean speaks the language of loneliness, maybe it is peace wearing a different costume. All nouns speak a language. The Atlantic up here connects me to her - her ashes long gone, but I go to the ocean to see her, to talk to her, to feel like I am close to her memory. The boat is leaving, I am told – the song tells [me] a story similar to mine. She isn't here anymore. This photo was taken by a woman - I start thinking about some of the women who are and were important to me. Some musical references like Elis Regina, Mercedes Sosa, Violeta Parra and then some family members: my grandmother, my mom, my aunts, my cousin – how do they relate to this notion of a female identity and their stigmas. The boat is heading north. It has been eleven years since I left home – today. My heart belongs to the South. South America. Atlantic South. But my roots have been growing here.

How to drop all the expectations you have without losing interest? I am tired of waiting. Maybe I should just stop waiting. Maybe if I spoke French, just maybe. Maybe is such a tempting place to be at. S.K. is 79 and she is a force of nature. Her eyes still sparkle with enthusiasm. And the truth is that I am tired. I get glimpses of happiness here and there and some moments of satisfaction. Not sure though I am doing a great job. Not sure people can be even certain of that, that they are indeed doing a good job. Maybe that doesn’t even matter. This plethora of people, who come to the library and disturb the precious silence within the lives of books, annoys me. I am studying the stock market closely. I spent the day at home mostly organizing yesterday. I watched a music documentary. I cleaned closets, took the trash out. I have three full bags of clothes and shoes to donate. Benjamin followed me around. Edwin slept on his favorite chair. I wonder if my cats are happy. I opene

The SeaWorld of Each One  - Inspiring.

It feels like I am not a writer anymore. Never liked thinking I was. But at the same time, the urge to write is gone. Not completely gone, though. I see things in the world and I want to write about them, but somehow life is so busy these days. I want to write about the sea and the sea birds and how they struggle to survive. I have been teaching this week at 7am and it's great because I get a lot done during the morning. This morning I made banana bread and it came out really good. I took my car to be washed and did some other things around the house. My apartment feels different. Edwin, The Cat is slowly recovering. It hurts to see how fragile his life is and how he depends on me for a lot of things. He's still wearing the plastic cone he hates with a passion. Benjamin Solomon does recognize his brother, but that's almost equally as bad as not recognizing Edwin  as it has happened when Edwin came back from the hospital. Benji Soul wants to play and I have to supervise bo

Ideas. Thoughts. The ocean sound. Big clouds floating over my head. Silence at last.