Safe words


People talk
People LOVE to talk
Sentences come out of their mouths like endless rain.

And it makes me wish that words had weight, and colors, and that we could touch them.
Maybe even grab them, and hide them somewhere.

If we knew where they were,
if we kept them safe and locked and they couldn’t escape,
Maybe everyone will finally only speak truths.

Because people talk.
They love to!
They never stop!

But words last the same time on this earth as a snowflake.
And as soon as their lips stop moving,
They begin to forget what they said.


Scotch tape people


I throw and break things when i’m angry; then immediately feel bad and try to glue them back together a second later.

That’s why i’m glad people are not breakable.

I could just see the people who have loved me walking around cracked and full of scotch tape; and me staying around them forever out of guilt for the pieces i could never put back…

Old happy stars


Do you remember when you were a kid?

And every shinny thing in the sky looked like a star?

I would spend hours staring, even before it became dark, just so i could catch the first one.

When did stars become boring?

When did i stopped searching for them?

I need them back.

I need all those stars i found when i was a girl.

And the wishes i made on them too.

And the people that was by my side.

I need all the things i left behind…

Bruna’s doll house


Bruna stopped believing on people the night her mother died.

Humans were so fragile; she needed something real to hold.

Her father stopped believing on families the night his wife died.

He looked down at the messy blonde child and couldn’t find any place to fit her in now that the mother was gone.

He hired a nanny and moved on.


Growing up with no heroes around Bruna began to believe on things.

She doesn’t feel anymore.

She has.

She has the nicest house, she has concert tickets, she has Channel.

These things she can count, touch, she can understand.


Her father spends some nights talking to an old wedding picture:

“I miss you.

We need to talk about your daughter.

We need to talk about the things i know nothing about”

But morning comes and his old pain gets drowned on his pills and endless meetings.


They only face each other at breakfast.

Both of them sit very straight, wearing white and gray.

They are quiet, they rarely eat.

Two survivors of very different wars.


She scrolls through her cell phone, he reads the news.

They hold on to the things on their hands.

Not noticing the person in front is barely holding on to life.