Brazil Is My Way To See The

I Need To Write About Love. I Need To Think And Think And Write About Love-otherwise, My Soul Won’t Survive.

But He Was Wrong. Because I Had Fought With My Heart And Defeated It Long Ago. I Was Certainly Not Going To Become Passionate About Something That Was Impossible. I Knew My Limits; I Knew How Much Suffering I Could Bear.

I've Always Been A Very Restless Person. I Work Hard, Spend Too Much Time Looking After My Son, I Dance Like A Mad Thing, I Learned Calligraphy. I Go To Courses On Selling, I Read One Book After Another. But That's All A Way Of Avoiding Those Moments When Nothing Is Happening, Because Those Blank Spaces Give Me A Feeling Of Absolute Emptiness, In Which Not A Single Crumb Of Love Exists.

Each Day For Me Is A Musical Note That I Use To Compose The Symphony Of My Life.

The Trouble With Words Is That They Give Us The Illusory Sense That We Are Making Ourselves Understood As Well As Understanding What Others Are Saying. However, When We Turn Around And Come Face-to-face With Our Destiny, We Discover That Words Are Not Enough.