blAck Is A hAppy cOlOr

The moon already claims its place, even as the day refuses to fade.

The sky became a canvas: the lightning's glow painted art on the clouds as the storm passed in the distance.

A wall that was once a shelter now holds stories. The fallen stones and towering trees whisper the past of the Jesuit missions, where time shaped both the landscape and destinies. Here, the present meets the past, and history rests on every leaf scattered across the ground.

Between walls and windows, nature insists on framing the sunset, reminding us that beauty finds its place even where we least expect it.

There’s an undeniable beauty in this hill, a serenity that invites the gaze to wander across the horizon. Yet, at its wounded heart, a gaping hole stands as a reminder of past greed. The quarry is long gone, but the void it left behind echoes what should never have been taken. Admiring this view is a blend of wonder and sorrow, as if nature itself apologizes for a scar it never chose.

Era noite, e estávamos com amigos, rindo e conversando, quando surgiu o dilema: onde deixar os guarda-chuvas? Alguém, numa solução improvisada, os pendurou em uma árvore. Um rosa e outro preto, balançando no escuro, pareciam um casal de morcegos dormindo. Sob o céu noturno, iluminados apenas pelo brilho pálido ao redor, eles pareciam mais do que simples objetos — como se guardassem segredos de uma história que nunca será contada. Então, tiramos a foto, eternizando o momento entre o riso e o mistério.

Vinte anos atrás, de frente para os prontuários. Era só papel, sonhos e o começo de tudo.

Quando as cordas silenciam, as histórias ecoam.

A intensidade nem sempre cabe na imagem, mas fica na memória. 🌧️

On the strings of the guitar and in the shades of black and white, a moment frozen from another era. A young soul (perhaps slightly out of tune) but full of dreams, believing every chord could change the world. Or at least the bar that night.

Entre sombras e acordes, o coração da cidade ainda pulsa no Mercado Público.