There's an indomitable gallop inside this chest, a force that can't be defeated: an invincible fire that consumes and devours me.
Don't hesitate, go. Don't be afraid. Close your eyes and go for it.
Inside, an empty place awaits the fire and brilliance of an embrace, a kiss: a chest that shudders arrhythmically like a telluric tremor that tears the skin.
Don't hesitate, go. Glide like the current of a river. Flow like water flowing into its mouth.
With strength, determination and hand in hand.
You have to be a river: you're either a river or an abyss.
Perhaps this is the story of a woman who, having failed to be a river, became an abyss. Perhaps this is the story of someone who, by hesitating, killed a part of herself. Perhaps this is the story of all of us: when our fear kills us in cold blood.
The last petal of the afternoon has fallen, and she is alone at night, filled with anguish and pain, torn apart by regret. After nightfall, darkness sets in and mourning begins.
Perhaps she has learnt the most important lesson, perhaps she has founded a new spring and a new bed inside her chest, but it's too late: she can no longer move forward hand in hand.
We must fulfil Mário Cesariny's maxim: 'Ama como a estrada começa'.
You have to be a river.
For you, with a river in your chest.
Diogo da Costa Ferreira
