#brazilian lit

The eroticism inherent in living things is scattered through the air, in the sea, in the plants, in us, scattered in

__

There’s something inside of me that hurts. Oh, how it hurts and how it screams for help. But tears aren’t there in the

__

Where were you at night? No one knows. Don’t try to answer—for the love of God. I don’t want to know the answer.

__

What I write you has no beginning: it’s a continuation. From the words of this song, a song that’s mine and yours, there

__

Dear sirs, now of all times, when I had so much to say, I don’t know how to express myself. I’m a solemn and serious woman,

__