sambalamento, luiz bonfa
in a restaurant filled with commotion that gathers an identity of its own. what would it be like to give each person a mic. us, there, your captivated audience. share your thoughts, your story. shore your journey. share your lyric and prose with us, your captivated audience.
we long for you.
tipsy off the drunkedness of your beauty, your nuance, your pain or lack thereof. which is so uncommon, so rare. we smile as applause and you embrace us with the solitude of your afterthought. it must be preserved—ritualized.
as it is apart of the ceremony of rememory.
thank you for your language, beyond grammar we find you. you offer yourself at the alter of desire and empathy—you sacrifice it all. and we love you. because we love us. and you love you. because you love us, love it: our collective beauty. as we watch in remembrance and at the behest of your afterthought, we dream of you— and us by extension.
to be idle in rythmic discourse with it all.
shore your journey, share your story