Suzy, Solange, and Aninha

so i guess there is this certain kind of rock that you can mush up in your hand and paint with? we found white, yellow, brown, and red.

stopped the pickup, jumped out, and picked mangos until a corner of the pickup was filled. yum.

L to R: David, Isabela, Fernanda, Feliphe, Nando, Aninha, Gabby, Patricia, Tia?, Me, Gilberto, Cacau, and Lucas

banho de lama–the bath of earth (clayish stuff)

so there was this whole on the side of the road. we stopped, and jumped in. and then rode off in the pickup again.

Beans and rice picnic in the shade.

is called “the wedding of the widow” in Portuguese

happiness is:

*sand so clean that is squeaks. have you ever heard squeaky sand?
*eating random things. like rocks. and leaves. and fish with pointy noses.
*spending a whole afternoon in water.
*eating mangos in the ocean. eating popcicles in the ocean. eating peanuts and cheese puffs in the ocean. eating darn well anything in the ocean. i guess they don’t worry about getting cramps in Brasil.
*best friends
*seeing the bottom of the ocean when you are neck deep in water–so clear the only dark spot is your own shadow
*driving in the back of a pickup truck. stopping when you see mangos. (Nando climbed the tree and shook it until it rained mangos) filling the pickup with mangos. sticky, yellow fingers.
*waves that pull you in and raise you up and then gently put you back down on the soft sand
* taking pictures of “banho de lama” (literally, the bath of earth)
*doing dust donuts in a pickup
*reading poetry on the beach. star gazing on the beach. three shooting stars.
*a picnic of rice and beans. and more mangos
*having a tanline from my ankle bracelet. somewhere, i do have some melanin.
*a long shower after a day of salt water

sit in the water
feel the sun
stare down
at your feet
watch the seaweed
float by
see the rainbows
in every wave
ride across
the squeaky sand

happiness is like when you realize you are holding a handful of sparking diamonds. they are so beautiful they make you ache. and at the same moment that your happiness peaks, you realize the diamonds are falling–are slipping, are changing…and you will never have another moment like you have now.

Eskimos have how many different words for snow? like 40. i think Brasil should have that many names for sand. the white, cornstarch sand of Gaibu, the pale brown squeaky sand of Enseada de Corais, the gritty dark brown sand of Calhetas…and the each beach also has the wet sand, dry sand, compacted sand, flat sand, bumpy sand…

the wave washes
over and trickles down
into the rocks
filling the crevices
rising toward the next
and finally slipping into
my tranquil pool
where i sit and wait

how can i account for the time that passes so naturally…like it was meant to be lived, and not recorded?

i got burnt until my eyebrows stung and my wrists were stiff. the salty water busted my lip and it is still growing.

“olha pra meu corpo e chora”

the water turns
from golden clear
to oil slick
the pink rises from the waves
until it darkens into purple and
stars perforate
and the water
is no longer
inviting

So my friend asked me…what would happen if you got really sick? and i thought about it…i guess they would buy a ticket for me and send me back to the US. to my family. thinking about that made me miss my family. deep saudades stirred inside me. because they are there. So present in my life. ALWAYS. and it also hurt, and ached…will i ever really be at home here?