The eggs are hard probably for boiling too long in the water. This is breakfast. Waiting. Years have passed and mistakes haven t. Time is taking too long to encounter me, I run so fast. Learnings. Relationships have always been my private hell and heaven. Yearning. Love was always present, even though in a twisted way. One way relationships, thousands of made up love stories: I found love in trees and leaves. Mirrors. I also love myself when I look at me. I love dressing up and undressing only for me. Never for others.
It s too easy for me to walk all over myself. It s too easy attracting people that would do the same. Shame; more like a shyness that isn t supposed to happen. (Things to expect from a Brazilian-singer). The things that aren t supposed to happen but do are what we call (life). And the things that are supposed to happen but don t are called (dreams). I like all forms, including squares. Where do I fit, though? What is my format? Do I look like a guitar or a pear? Do I sing like a mermaid, do I look like a saint or a devil? Can I be everything, I mean everything? Not, when someone tells me I dress up like Avril Lavigne. Fire. Can you feel me burning? That is what makes me shake, so when you think Im uptight, Im actually burning up and shaking, in the middle of my legs, but I cant tell you this, especially you, because above all people you wouldn t appreciate that. You are afraid of that little secret of mine. Spiders and swords. No cards for spiders, only webs. So while you play your little games, I spin my web, sliding along with my short legs. Such little person so big in the soul, so heavy in breathing, so anxious in the heart is about to explode. Seeds of different types, that is my Brazilian generosity for the world.
