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This year there is no carnival

This time-space of being others, being with others is suspended. To walk aimlessly around, wandering with no other purpose than to wander.

This year there is no


Days of staggering in the street wearing nonsense, with a shiny body, exposed skin, flesh on flesh. 

Safe-conduct for inconsequences. 

Parentheses for impossibles/possibles in real life.  


not this year


It's only Ash Wednesday.

A break in the march, in the crooked chant. 

A dull sullen thud.  


This year


Discolored. Wanin tones.  


Just ashes.

February 2021

For the mates of carnival block

Ano passado eu morri mas esse ano eu não morro.

For the carnival block Eu Acho é Pouco who in 2021 invented the non-carnival.

Missing all the carnivals that went by and the ones that didn't.

Missing those who will come again bright.

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