Goaroba-incl. my last day at Iracambi

Hoje eu fui a caoceira-I went to the waterfall fall today-with Fagane and it passed the day sweetly-like waking again at 6.30 am and seeing more of the beautiful Brasilian sky and mata and talking to Mona easily-sleepily-loosely about who knows what because I can´t remember-the tiredness around my eyes distracts my memory a lot these days-

I read over my journal entries as another homeless dog got to know me in this soft heat in the Brasilian evening in Muriae-

and read my famished road again-and it almost made me cry because I relate bits of my life to the books I read during that time and the Famished Road belongs to Iracambi and Marcelo and thunder like war..

and say goodbye to the Iracambi gente-

once the car of them left in Gustavo´s cute little for Iracambi and Iracambi´s homemade bread in the mornings and afternoons and nights with peanut butter and that special white cheese and goiaba and for Iracambi´s life and breath -I didn´t feel it jump me until it hit my throat-sadness and wanting and beauty and confusion and it was hard and short and good.

SO unlike the utter defeat-the masacre of me all on my green tile floors of casa verde-the green house I stayed in my last week at Iracambi-when I was without Marcelo and Amanda and Alamao and Gabriel and Luiz and so many others-when I knew my time was going to end because I chose to end it-chose to travel and see Brasil instead of staying where it would have been so much quieter and the days sweet with familiarity and the return of my lover and evenings of just having a bit of routine and a normal feeling all day long-that feeling that can hug you when you go to sleep and when you wake up-when I knew the vistas might only exist in my body and maybe some pictures and maybe be forgotten completely with time- when greif beat me first in my stomach- and can I make it through-and again and no-I can´t breathe- it hit my throat and then again in my stomach and I looked up for nothing and bent down on all fours and hung my head and curled my back and heaved a little and sighed and cried throughtout it all-water and little noises falling away from my body which seemed like it should ache or something-and then gave in to my womans need to be close to the earth when crying and sprawled with my cheek on the floor and my tears wetnes all over the green liquid tiles.

-until I could move to the window-where it hit me again but I had the sill and the beautiful vista and more knowledge shaken loose from my body from the beating-leaking from my fingerjoints to my consciousness so I could stand at the window and see my beautiful view for the last time and still breathe-still continue on and think of France and all of everything I don´t know and so much of my life ahead of me-and me knowing just everything I don´t know-and I will make it through it all.

Something I´m a little afraid of: more of lovely moments being lost-memories fading like bruises healing-horribly -in a way that is gross and good together at the same time.

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