Lia wants to be Free and Walk, like the Man Who Walked wanted to be and went on pilgrimage to the Promised Land. At the Portal of Promission, they settled their affections. He, in 1893, with the freed, excluded, marginalized. She, in 2019, with those who insisted on completing a Wet Walk That Had No End. Both camped Solitudes, cultivated Resiliences, established Comprehensions, breathed Impermanences, built Saudades and returned to their Intimate Companies. They also heard, on the banks of Alegria, the Always New Breath of the Everyday Light: This Land Calls You, Trust. This Earth Loves You, Fia...

 

It was the wind from there, it was from there that it arrived. It was the wind of Iansã, dominator who slept in the arms of the morning and woke up. And, upon awakening, we entered Ventania. We are in the house of Senhora Jaguar, with our eyes burning like perpetual fire, shaking Maracás and Esperanças, strumming Rosaries and Mirações, chanting Canticles and Changes, nourishing Dreams and Protections, consecrating Rapés and Archeologies in the last year of agglomerations and transits of our lives. It is from there, from Porta Azul leaning against Algaroba Do Terreiro, that the many Lias depart for Sambar...

 

Sambar in Brota dos Pirilampos, in Fundo de Pasto, in Cidade da Pedra Bonita, in the Capital, in Porto do Povo Preto, in the Cachoeiras do Velho Chico, in Litoral dos Cajueiros, in Serra da Santa Cruz, in Chão do Descarrego, in Águas of Rio, in the Celestial Constellations, on the Two Sides of the Window. And that one in an almost non-existent shade of blue, blue that doesn't exist. Blue that is pure memory of somewhere. From Samba somewhere to the hesitant tracing of written lines, Lia introduces a Mental Time in a Succession of Steps and inaugurates the Report. The footprint of the Foot is the footprint of the Hand…

 

The only thing you can see and hear is this Samba with the Heart*. Only the Heart encourages us to read and listen to the narratives written by Lia in My Paths are Opened: Daily-tales of my first Caatinga Backlands Season allows us a relaxed receptivity so that the words traced and spoken are incorporated into the lived experience as a transmitted experience. In each diary, the exact records of the hours print the most precise rhythmic form of the Heart. Each Character is a beat on the Pulse of Time. Each Sound Wave is a step in the strange and difficult Process of the Heart…

 

In the resonance of the coronary vibrations, I summon Professor Jorge Larrosa* to expand the meanings of Lia's sayings, this inscription established in the ex-position of a corporeal existence, finite and incarnated in space-time. Larrosa says that the Subject of Experience, whether as a Territory of Passage, Place of Arrival or Space of Happening, is defined by its Passivity, Listening, Receptivity, Openness. Passivity made of Passion, Suffering, Patience, Transformation. The Lia Que Nos Write is the clear expression of experience and, anchored in the impossibility of the Eternal Fixed, elaborates a singular knowledge in the precious sensation of being So Without Knowing So Much. I hope the wind blows outside...

 

Wind of Silence blowing the Path in Reading, the Path in Writing, the Secret in Memory, the Death of the Instant in Permanence of the Event. Right there, on the banks of the Promissão River, widened into a dam to flood the tracks of the Sacred Village of the Man Who Walked. Lia updates us on the news of the Deluge, from the Hotel Mais Chique da Rua to the Little Room outside Casa da Senhora Jaguar. It is on the limitless horizon that she sings the place where Silence is formed*. The evocative soundtrack by Igor Visentin, punctuated with nostalgic chords and sound traces of the Andanças, has the feat of making Canto even more Canto, Silêncio even more, Gente really, awesome*.

 

May I learn, Lord and Lady, to practice Silence and remain Firm in the face of the Will to Prove Myself to Others..., prays the Girl Who Walked in her last prayer. He goes down to Minas smelling of freedom, back to his company, like someone who unearths a new world in the experience of language. The pages of the Digital Book close, the Silences of the Podcasts are established, and many flowers open in Whistles of Love...

 

Lia who went to Sambar Só Na Ventania is now the arrival point of Mulher Na Travessia…

 

AHO! 

 

*1 Excerpt from the song Vento de Lá, by Roque Ferreira;

*2 Excerpt from the song Vento de Lá, by Roque Ferreira;

*3 Excerpt from the song Trem das Cores, by Caetano Veloso;

*4 Reference to a passage from the bookThe Little Prince, by Saint-Exupéry;

*5 Reference to the book &Tremors: writings about experience, by Jorge Larrosa;

*6 Reference to the prose poem The Word That Heals, by Alejandra Pizarnik;

*7 Reference to a passage from the book Grande Sertão: Veredas, by Guimarães Rosa.