Linhas e curvas, indo pegar um avião. Rumo à Itália mas com Niemeyer na cabeça.
It has been such a long time since I wrote a poem. My dad is an incredible poet. I found that out a few months ago.
Now, apparently, the inspiration has passed through to me. In a rhyme, which typically I hate. But I was thinking of poetry after a particularly time-warp evening of dancing, and then upon seeing my reflection with the piano and multiple doors and books, the words came to me.
I am traveling later today, to Italy, with my mom. We will be working on my grandma's house and affairs. And I will dance! More soon.
