Cure in Nature

Who are these Saints?
Are we these silent patients?
Individualised in a forgotten time?
What tribe is this, found in the living ward of a dead hospital? In a time of dumped saints, invaded temples and homeless families. Schoolless, healthless families. We sprout through the chinks and the cracks (...)
What gives? Has São Paulo lost its vision?
Blinded by the light of its means in pursuit of its ends, they say.
Too many malls and hair salons? Too many towers, traffic lights, too much smog?
I know…They’ve sealed the city…
Dropped concrete roofs on scarlet rivers,
Where blood of the Tupi-Guarani runs in streams. Efigênia rises down below, jabuticaba is a right.
Slandered, reborn in the Black martyr. The scar of cowardly latifundium!
Art! make me console more than seek consolation,
Understand more than be understood,
Love more than be loved.
Together, or not so far apart, we shall seed
real wealth here, Mr. Allard.
The seeds of another notion, a garden of memory and creativity.
Just imagine: medicinal plants, research, experience.
A string of abundance and interactivity.
Asserting public space and awareness.
Of the senses, a new university. (...)
Amen!