9 May 2023
The Rhythm Thief
Uma menção sem importância
Volteie todas as sombras do céu,
Perfumadas de luz e acrescentadas de
Menciona-te na tua morte.
Uma vida quase perfeita, numa identidade alheia.
E Vergonhas que organizar.
Porque nem eu e nem tu somos mais que um passo.
Mesmerizado por um segundo.
De Karinna Alves Gulias
Such Is the Story Made of Stubbornness and a Little Air - by Ilya Kaminsky
a story signed by those who danced wordless before God.
Who whirled and leapt. Giving voice to consonants that rise
with no protection but each other’s ears.
We are on our bellies in this quiet, Lord.
Let us wash our faces in the wind and forget the strict shapes of
Let the pregnant woman hold something of clay in her hand.
She believes in God, yes, but also in the mothers
of her country who take off their shoes
and walk. Their footsteps erase our syntax.
Let her man kneel on the roof, clearing his throat
(for the secret of patience is his wife’s patience).
He who loves roofs, tonight and tonight, making love to her and to
let them borrow the light from the blind.
There will be evidence, there will be evidence.
While helicopters bomb the streets, whatever they will open, will
What is silence? Something of the sky in us.
From Deaf Republic. Copyright © 2019 by Ilya Kaminsky. Poem taken from: https://poets.org/poem/such-story-made-stubbornness-and-little-air
17 January 2023
Relationship in a male circle
A relationship between a woman and a man is a relationship between a woman and the world. Every step into that bond means that a social group will overpower her individuality, because she will never be seen as an equal, in spite of the actual progressive trend in the world politics.
A male partner with more power, being that social, financial, professional or even emotional, will always try to control the power of his female partner, and this will mostly be accomplished with the help of his surroundings and acquaintances. Professional referrals, favours, buddy groups, networking. All of these supposedly meritocratic or friendly acts are but means of control or a tool for power struggle.
There are women in these groups too. They also can be the buddy in a group without realising the harm she is causing to herself. Many women live sleepwalking in life and projecting her dreams onto a path of delusions. There is no worst enemy to a woman than naivety.
The reality is that a woman will never be able to truly detach herself from a man, unless he wants it to. Because the world helps him.
13 January 2023
To any finger pointing at me in this world I promise to relive the ghost of dust. It’s piling up. Unnoticed. I promise to label myself. Movables. Furniture scratching the floor. The memories of a language I used to like, But I never experienced it. I drank alone With eyes watching me. Unmoving. Uninterested. Destabilizing quietness of mind. I rejected competitive invitations every day. Without a friend. I turned my inside out. But it’s not seen. Thankfully or not. The joy of being one and only in one world or many. Silent. Maybe I’ll invite a child. As darkness is coming near. By Karinna Alves Gulias
12 December 2022
O Canto do Pajé
Direct link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nmhu9IbP_50
24 October 2022
Struggle for Pleasure
"Muitos creem que ser feliz é gostar de viver no fausto. Ser feliz é simplesmente sanidade e paz mental. Só; nada mais. É uma busca primordial, mais do que criar prosperidade ou propriedade. A realidade é ambivalente e as pessoas não fazem sentido. São demasiado turvas, especialmente depois que passam dos 30. Redigi-la-ia, a realidade. Verifico o me ser, só. Vazia. Na vastidão de uma baleia eu me perco outra vez, mas me sinto mais feliz." Citação do meu conto inédito Areal.
De Karinna Alves Gulias
5 October 2022
12 September 2022
Não sei ser tempo.
Vôo por sobre os mares,
12 July 2022
Daniel Rossen - Tangle
17 May 2022
Meu primeiro conto
22 April 2022
Midas - Tanxugueiras
9 March 2022
The compassion of Europe has colour
18 February 2022
I'm tired. Tired of this exposed and repetitive civility of men, or might I say personal, social marketing. This fake idea of social and political progression and, thus of this individualistic and workaholic, male world. I'm tired of trying to constantly be equal to men. Why should I own anything to anyone else, apart from doing good and respecting others? I want to be me, only me. Hoping for an inclusive world for the children who are to be. A world of all.
Why would I want to be like men, if not even them know who they are themselves? They created a nonsensical, shallow and unfulfilling society, based on empty concepts of honour and dignity. Shallow concepts that do not stand that much anymore in order to give space to an economical institution that only destroys and creates conceptual riches to the victors. Their market is as metaphysical as their own god. Male.
A whole gender can only be mysterious in a world of imbalance. How can you stand on only one foot? To add to the foolishness they have even removed the stick of their elderly from their daily life. A world which stands on one foot relying solely on the youth to keep on. Balancing on one foot until discarded by old age, like an incomparable winner, "forever young" and stricken with Alzheimer.
We have to survive in a world of exceptions and marginalization, as if it was a Darwinist theory made true that is constantly defended in our rhetoric as pragmatism. A biased pragmatism. The ones who see through the crack of the door, can only see what they see... And we all see like this.
An unfulfilling life should be a good enough reason to change things, but we tend to accommodate ourselves to what appears to be the easy way, the preconceived way. But it isn't but tiring. So tiring. All for the sake of tradition, nationality and whatever other reaffirming, mummifying idea in the name of human history, tribal identity and immortalization of the past.
It's a boring and cynic world we built to live in, while we are surrounded by beauty and empowering images that we take for granted. We struggle every day to make our living, while everything around us is given. It's our chosen life of beggars repeating over and over again to match the suffering of a martyr which shades any variation of life to shame or discredit. We also make beggars out of the animals. And we look at them, looking for scraps of food in our cities, with arrogant disdain.
Hoping for a world of all, I pray for the end of the delusional and unfulfilling paradigm of the victor.
Karinna Alves Gulias