"Sitting at Café Luiz
And the tears that fall are not only a metaphor ...
I am just an ordinary person,
Seeking any chair,
Any a leaf
For a simple symphony ...
"Who am I?" "Am I still exist?"
I wonder before sipping my cup of tea
And the smell of cinnamon rises in my mind:
- Memories vacancies,
perpetuating pain
And a universe which does not belong... anymore...
I am part of those who make poetry to hide the pain
Under the pies and slow lyrics as a song
As the only form of expression to the mind that sins, vague, and it saddens longs,
Under the memories of this experience of existence that dies every moment
inside a paper box ... "
(Joyce Martins)
