vagalume

2003-03-05T17:53:00.000-03:00

:: Ash Wednesday ::

March is not the cruelest of months, and I feel an exhilarating sense of possibility after fininshing a neverending assignment at 5h30 a.m. today. Not much sleep, but a feeling that I am free to explore new possibilities. This last month has been full of breakthroughs. Good ones.

2002-12-11T19:26:00.000-03:00

:: Awakenings ::

I am back, sort of. Now it is summer down here, which turns my black air-conditioning-deprived car into a mobile sauna. The daily rain showers, on their turn, make the usually maddening traffic transform itself into a permanent line of cars, rendering the expression "rush hour" obsolete. The result on my mood doesn't require much imagination. But I am happy, because my holidays are coming, soon...

2002-08-26T17:35:00.000-03:00

:: Metropolitan Tatoo ::

I write from the South, my currency is worth next to nothing, but the sky is clear during winter. In most days, there's no need for sweaters. My city's combination of an everpresent sun with a neverending traffic jam accounts for a very specific trait: most of us have our left arm suntanned all through the year. Or maybe not so specific: L.A. inhabitants must share this body mark with us. I wouldn't know, alas, I've never been. I could buy 5,3 tonnes of bananas with the money I would have to pay for a ticket to California.

2002-08-23T20:21:00.000-03:00

:: Arrested by Money ::

I write from the South and my currency is worth next to nothing. My salary, although high for my country's standards, translates itself into a ridiculous amount when you convert it into dollars. This means, amongst other things, that travelling abroad is a luxurious extravagance for me and my countrymates. In other words, we live in economic imprisionment. Also, The New Yorker costs as much as a very nice dinner in a very nice restaurant.