For Maria Eugênia
No matter how much the traces of these lines fade and no one can truly understand what I feel, I send what my heart hopes to receive to my messenger—the coastal breeze. I have asked at the bus terminals and in the churches. When I speak your name, they deny your face. Through the curves of the avenues, in the alleyways, in the favelas, in the whispers shared among women—the more I search, the more I love you. One day, while walking through the market in the morning, a man approached me and asked: — Why do you walk like that? Up and down, back and forth? What matters so much to cause such agitation? — I am looking for someone. — Who? My throat seized up, and I realized I had denied your other name. I ran home and went straight to your clothes. I imagined how beautiful you would look in the scarves I embroidered with your name: Maria Eugênia Menezes das Graças. I embrace you and lose myself. All the women in the world ask for what I hold in my heart—except you. Life scorns me, and you reject me for staying. I stay because I think you will return. So, I ask Ceará: where is that woman who made vows to me? The one who spurned my gifts, my embrace, and my name. The more I dream, the more I love you. For Maria Eugênia, I created a mirror; for her sake, I shatter it and build another to her liking. I offer a thousand and one sacrifices for your return. But your body has grown cold, and the last train from the capital has already departed. I look at myself and see your dress in my embrace. You come home every day. I fly on the breeze to find solace in your arms, and amidst so much pain and suffering, I will find our peace. From me, to Maria Eugênia.