Fundacja Twarda Sztuka


Rio de Janeiro

For him
There was nothing to write about
All had to be experienced and felt

Falling in love with inseparable sun and sand
Tasting the fragility of a dancing wind
Receiving an offer of a bright future
Against any kind of logic

A fleeing moment coils inside my memory cell:

A young man leans over an old woman
Who has fainted in front of my house
He helps her to regain consciousness
Caressing her heavy hand
Almost without touching

He smiles when she opens her eyes
Sending shivers through the spine of an accidental witness
Who is seeing a living Pieta configured in reverse
In a city allied with the eternally handsome soldier-saint

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