I am not a metaphor.

I am different, I am not a metaphor. This is not magical realism. My presence is true. You can also be like this. Yes, I am magic; I am the spirit of the forest, the warrior of the ocean. I am myself. I am not grey. My soul changes, now green, now purple, now blue. I know that the nature is a place inside.



I saw myself in the heights, watching the birds, stirring the leaves. I was a delicious feeling to be part of the tree, part of the ripples in the water. My hands, my hair, my legs, floating… The wind cares me because, I was a leaf, a trunk the sand, swinging. A voice told me that this is how it will be when I died. Then, I realized that I was dying becoming part of the tree, animals and waves.


There are many stories about why and for what they are coming. Some people say that it was inevitable. They broke the silent of the nature, they poisoned the seas; the water just slid in the costumes of the birds and stagnated in the skin. All the green departed each day as if the rivers were walking, the rivers blackened. Everything that live shall die, like soldiers breathing lethal gas, the fire in the roots pursues us.


The destruction breaks the consciousness of the earth. All that survived yawns its destruction against time. I don’t want a garden. I want a jungle. That is why I have the most painful part of the ritual. Resuming existent. By dreaming always one can survive in this kingdom.


I am different, I am not a metaphor. This is not magical realism. My presence is true. You can also be like this.

I wrote this for a theatre assignment. It was especially for Earth day. I know it can sound cliché but I think it is absurd the fact that we do usually do not pay attention to the damage that we are causing to this planet. I do not pretend to sound as a PETA fellow but I just want to point out that we are not usually aware of the amount of garbage we trough without thinking that some of it can be reused or recyclable.
When I was a child I learnt that, in average, a person normally wastes around 1.5 kg per day. He! I think it is actually more than that.
We should, at least, try to be aware of what we are doing. This world does not only belong to me or to you. My children and your children will have to know how to solve our mistakes. They will have to learn how to life in this kind of world that we are leaving for them.

Sometimes my mother, sometimes me, sometimes every one.

My grand father died in summer and my mother sent me an email saying that he is now in Heaven taking care of us. When she told me that I could not say anything else more than ‘mmm, sure’. I knew that this idea was making her happy, by creating a fantasy and, in such way, it was also her way to accept that her father die. I could not tell her that I do not think my grandfather is in Heaven wearing a white toga, chanting with the angels. Because that idea was making her feel better. I now, perhaps, she was cheating her self. She was trying to find explanations to what just happened. She was trying to find a cure to her vacuum .


I did not see any reason why  I should tell her that it was just a type of fantasy, that it was not real or that I refused my self to believe her ideas about death. I know some philosophers said that we should be strong enough to do not create fantasies, do no try to find a solution for our problems by inventing external forces or believing that something controls us and the world. But, what is wrong with it? Why do we bothered if some one does it? Why do we think that person is stupid or week for believe such things? What is wrong in been happy by avoiding reality?


Trough my life I met some people who dedicate their life to ‘God’. Some of them had continue living because they think that something much better than this life is wanting for them. Do we lost or win something by destroying what make them?