Selene

The moon caught fire tonight. Has its own light and illuminates lost causes. Today is not goddess neither satellite, not old, neither young. Tired of showing the same face as ever, she undresses for...

Summer poems

Image of the first edition in catalan of the flyers Summer poems, of the Season poems collection, for the the performance Cordel by Teresa Santos / Poeta de Gandia.

Definitive words

Words are not definitive: their meaning, their spelling and composition. A capital word may suddenly lose importance and become small. If there is a hierarchy in words. Words should not be read or heard...

Catastrophes

A boat under the sea is always a disaster, no boat was born to sink. However, when it is crossed by time, there is a beauty in it that comes from catastrophe. Time changes...

Fallen into oblivion

To all the phrases that once flooded me, without having had the courage or the necessary tools so that they would not fall into oblivion, and that now occupy the place of sleep…

Windows

There is an open window that does not close. A breeze that disturbs the sight that does not end. Beyond, in infinity, the tangible dream subjects itself to the impermanence of days and nights....

From day to day

From day to day I see my hand grow and the cells that multiply in this ode to the triumph of life. From day to day I see my foot growing, and the paths...

Offspring

Warm word with smell and slight weight on the arms. Fingernail and flesh against the precipice of separation. Vigil and hope in a safe and near nook.

Stones from my roof

1. Each step as a fractal path that unfolds in the desert underfoot. Little by little. 2. A diamond is nothing more than a survival mechanism. 3. Yesterday is thousands of years. 4. I...

Writer

A writer lives intensely every written word, in a constant game of search and capture for freedom.

A Grande Sorte

[Sorry, only available in portuguese] #prólogo Eu tive a grande sorte de conhecer o Sr. Roque. #introdução Armando Roque não era, de todo, um homem comum. Nas algibeiras trazia espanto e admiração pelas coisas...

Mouths

At the end of the party, meditation consists of cleaning the mouths of the drunken and revealing glasses, served at the meal. For the more ingrained dirt the nails are used and, sometimes, the...

Existence

One day someone asked me what it was for me to exist. I answered: I don’t know, it’s good, to walk in the world … Today, in my ninety years, I think that to...