Tuesday, August 22, 2017


Hi! I'm here to tell you that all the content of this blog will be transferred to my main blog, "EXPRESSÃO". As soon as I finish doing it, this blog will be discontinued, but all its posts will be available in the tag "FROM MY WINDOW" on my blog "EXPRESSÃO."

Here's the address. I'd like to have you as a follower there!


Wednesday, August 16, 2017

What's the Difference?

If there will be photographs in a box
Or on a cloud somewhere,
What difference does it make?

The result is the same,
The end is the same for all of us.
Where one goes, the others will follow,
With or without a farewell party,
With or without tears,
Whether someone misses us 
Or not.

In my last moments in this life,
It won't matter what I'll leave behind,
But I'll dream of another life without the same mistakes,
A life where I'll be able to make smarter choices,
And that will make the difference.

Tuesday, August 8, 2017

Friday, July 28, 2017



The wonderful land that Alice found
In a hole, under a tree trunk
Was not as wonderful as she had imagined.

Even there,
There were people enslaved to watches,
Foolishly stuck in a sea of muddy vanity
And arrogant queens who killed their subjects.

But when she opened her eyes and returned
To the plain world she had left behind,
She created a fantasy land
That made real people envy her.
(You know, kids like to tell tall stories...)

Thursday, July 13, 2017

The Child's Flight

Once upon a time
There was a child
Who wanted to fly.

She climbed on the back of a bird
And it took her high.

She gained the sky,
Touched every cloud with her fingertips
And tasted the sweetness of  their vapors
With the tip of her tongue.

Then she looked down,
At the people who walked on the ground
(Those whom she was no longer among).

She gained the sky,
But lost the world...
She was no longer
A child.

Monday, July 3, 2017

Where Did The Love go?

I thought it had been lost, 
Long ago.
As I walked,
I stepped on the ground
Trying to feel a trace of its heartbeat
Under my feet
Almost dead,
Still pulsing...

I looked around
At the vast fields of a two-sided lost war
(For no-one ever wins a war)
Trying to feel its name in the wind...

Where did the love go?

And then silence.

The awesome consternation
That it had been there all the time,
Sleeping in the beauty of a faded dream,
Waiting for the growth of new wings,

Wednesday, June 21, 2017

When I'm Lost

When I'm lost
And need a guiding light,
I'll search for our memories
Into the night.

When I'm old
(If old I become)
I hope never to regret
For what I haven't done.

At the gate
That separates the worlds,
I'll be standing and waiting
Among colors of gold.

Tuesday, June 13, 2017


All that fits into a look 
Rehearses a farewell. 

There are too many dry leaves 
On the grass of my life, 
Swept away from their moments, 
Born to not stay ... ... 

Your skin is so ephemeral, 
 Fleeting is your look! 
And every touch is goodbye...

Each encounter creates roads 
To take you away from me...

 Nothing ever stays, 
We are lonely creatures ... 
It is part of our essence
To turn ties into knots.

Monday, June 12, 2017


The landscape is not beautiful,
But we keep silent
Not to disturb other people's illusions.

Thursday, June 1, 2017

The Problem

You frowned; looked angry and quarrelled
Because of just one little word
You don't want to see me tomorrow,
And I wonder: was that ever worth?

Because yesterday I said 'no'
But that's not an issue, I guess
The problem was not to say 'no',
But having said always just 'yes'. 

Wednesday, May 24, 2017


Because I keep many blogs, many people ask me: "Where does your inspiration come from?" Well, I really don't know. I haven't travelled a lot, so I cannot say that I get inspiration from the many things I've seen or from the many people I've met. In fact, I haven't met many people in my life. I have a very quiet life and work from home, and I don't have a lot of friends.

I read a lot, though. But the things I write have nothing to do with the things I read. I write when I feel inspiration... and here I go again: where does it come from? 

I believe that one day this eager to write will disappear. It will be gone mysteriously, just like it came to me one day. I don't think there's a way to control it: I just sit down and write when I think I need to. It's like a very delicate thread that I hold in the air, and someday a strong wind will blow and take it away. 

Some people think I'm a writer. I don't agree. Writers write professionally and make a living out of it. Writers take writing seriously; I don't. It's just fun. Although there are people who have told me I'm talented, I doubt if they were telling me the truth or just trying to make me happy. Whatever the truth is, I really don't mind. I write because it makes me feel good. It's something beyond other people's judgment or approval. 

I write because I write. Just because. 

Monday, May 22, 2017


Little drops of rain
Dropping one by one
On the flower petals,
On the window pane.

They knock on the glass
And they say: “Remember!”
They turn into puddles
That splash on my fender.

Little drops of rain
Presents from the clouds
Wash away my fears,
Clearing up my doubts.

I look through the window
And sigh as they fall
My  whole world is  wet,
-From my eyes they fall…