Most people miss the food, a certain festival or tradition of their home town. Not Polly. What she missed the most about home was the sky. The illusory black heavens filled with unforgiving stars that were able to blind anyone who stared at it. Only lovers and bohemians dared the feat. Polly was among the firsts, even though she collected late night adventures marked by wine-filled jam sessions with the best young musicians in town.
What she truly enjoyed was the long hours spent by the kitchen window observing the enigmatic beauty of the bright blue-green sky. She would be…
It was common to see his stumbling walk in the evenings. Despite his alcoholic numbness, he knew Flowers Street well and every night would come home with a big burlap sack over his shoulder. Any comparison with Santa would be a bad joke. That man didn’t have any meat on his body. He was made of pure bones and his cheeks had never blushed or met affection. Although he carried a sack à la Santa, his nickname on the block was the Prophet.
He was known on Flowers Street for his loud rants as he would crawl back home dirty…
I shared an excerpt of the short story I published with my writing club and received lots of positive feedback. I was happily surprised by the response and I want to clarify I feel things:
As part of my journey to become a better writer in English I’ve decided to join a writing club in 2020. The experience has been unique and transformational. The group is part of the Toastmasters International network, but Rough Writers has its own sauce. They help writers and entrepreneurs to develop their creativity and storytelling skills through bi-weekly writing exercises and workshops.
I had published before in a collective book back…
I never thought about the meaning of life until I was 25. I was in Ipanema watching the sunset by Post 9 when someone pointed out to the infinite curious line between the ocean and the sky. “No one knows where one starts and where the other ends”, they said.
Now, looking back, I think the same thing about the line that defines life. And no, this post is not about abortion and pro-life movements (although, I’m pro-abortion and defend the right of women to choose what happens to their bodies). …
Thank you for your comment, Daniel. I apologize for the late response. I’ve been off Medium for a while, but I’ll definitely get back to writing soon. Please follow to get alerts about my updates. Have a great day!
As pessoas vem e vão, mas nunca vem em vão.
I can only see now, but you brought the best and the worst of me.
You had all of me, just like John sung.
The most authentic version of myself so far.
Everything was so powerful.
I felt so full that my stomach hurt like I’m still digesting it.
Here and there I learn something else about that time: the challenges we had.
Provocations. Questions. Were we ambitious?
We dare each other.
I wanted to give it all to you.
It was toxic sometimes. …
In scary times we all look for something to comfort us: food, alcohol, drugs, and love. We want to feel that we are being embraced, accepted. We want to know that no matter what, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.
— I want to die here already, and I might yet.
During that shooting, he met the Italian artist and #MeeToo leader Asia Argento. A woman known for saying what she feels, regardless of what people might think. She introduced him to her world, her home, her children, her…
I saw a post on Instagram listing the downside of wearing a bra. The post argued that it could promote an irreversible change in a woman’s body anatomy. Just think of indigenous women: free nipples and boobs with an intimate relationship with Gravity’s Law. Just beautiful and natural!
Plus, they have the lowest breast cancer incidence rate.
Amazing and intriguing, right?
The idea of steep and toned tits populate most men’s mind. The fact that boobs are sexualized intrigues me. Both men and women have breasts made of breast tissue, areolas, and nipples. However, men are the ones who can…