Category Archives: LitBite

Not-so-urban- LitBite: A rainy beach, a melting popsicle.

‘Lit Bite’ is a collection of nano-texts that may or may not have an ending. For me, it represents a reflexive moment, a time to think about Writing and about my life in the city, with all the great and terrible feelings it brings me. They are short, small scenes with memories or imagined situations. What do you think? Wanna join me in this adventure?

I lived in Rio for seven years before moving to São Paulo, to this small city called Santa Lucrécia.

Used with all the comforts the big city brings, I was completely tormented for a long year. In Rio, I had my own toy stove, a collection of beautiful Japanese dolls and more than one private English teacher, who also used to taught me painting and piano. Arriving at Santa Lucrécia, though, I noticed my toy stove was broken, my Japanese dolls were missing and Mrs and Mr Fonseca, my teachers, wouldn’t ever come back for the next class.

I was completely heartbroken and it’s safe to say I faced a really long period of depression that culminated in long, harsh punishments from my strict Mom and Dad.

The more they pressed, the more I fought.

The more I fought, the more they pressed.

Continue reading Not-so-urban- LitBite: A rainy beach, a melting popsicle.

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Lit Bite: An impression about Urban life

‘Lit Bite’ is a collection of nano-texts that may or may not have an ending. For me, it represents a reflexive moment, a time to think about Writing and about my life in the city, with all the great and terrible feelings it brings me. They are short, small scenes with memories or imagined situations. What do you think? Wanna join me in this adventure?

The Rock Gallery in São Paulo lies in the very heart of the city; the centre, noisy and full. Or – ‘usually noisy and full’, since that day it was the complete opposite. Perhaps the ever-falling temperature of Winter (or the sticky sadness in the air) left the streets empty. The sky, cold and grey, hid between tall buildings, was cut by pointy concrete apartments and signal towers.

Inside one of those buildings, a small shop was still opened, a small neon sign hanging behind a dimmed glass display window. The ‘Tattoo Club’ was not at all crowded during that Wednesday afternoon; the two women sat on the wooden bench near the door, while Death Metal beamed through hidden sound boxes. The guttural love song mixed with all the solitude around the place. On the reception, a single old man (his hair sprinkled with grey hair strands) headbanged the rhythm, his glasses’ thick lenses somewhat dirty.

Continue reading Lit Bite: An impression about Urban life