I am recyclable
I don't last long
because I'm organic
But I'm reborn every season
I'm a recycler
sticking senses
Hidden feelings
Mixed artworks
What do I know, in a pinch
My chaotic trace on the sidewalk
Once upon a time clippings
Well I tell you
there is nothing of mine
But there's something in the world
In everything I do
knead
It's part of my show
Of colors, lights, black, Indian
Silence in the Saculejo
To be able to walk the sound
When cutting steel
chest beats
in the wind of the leaf
Records of an act
I'm not alone
are many in me
I devour you
at the moment of yes
Of the skin, of the flesh,
Bloodshed
Artistic Anthropophagy
the look of the stone
in the dissonant waltz
of times gone by

Do you want to meet me?
take a chance.