“Each one of us is, successively, not one but many.” (José Enrique Rodó)
We fly away towards another scenario, we navigate skies like birds of passage. With the courage to explore the limits of the seas in search of treasures.
Hilda Hilst once said that the writer who wanted to be seen would have to depart. And in fact, how can one be seen in the same way when, by departing, our world takes on another form?
Departure may split souls. Bodies. Tongues. Tastes. Verses change their meaning. Habits transform themselves like words transform in the course of time. Memories become valuable objects. We carry what it is possible to carry, giving space to what we will turn into. Forever, a familiar stranger.
We turn into someone who craves a new nature, being incapable of disconnecting from our own roots. Incapable of neglecting that we become a mixture of “things”, a heap of tales and stories.
If one day we were wars, today we want to be history. Of all that is left, may the truth of the deepest human emotions and discoveries remain.
There are only those who explore in order to discover. There is only a necessity of losing oneself within and then finding oneself in others.
Like a bird, what we have left is the necessity of departing, bringing seeds from one soil to another, with all the intention of cultivating every single discovery.
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