Considerations

Queima came and went. I didn't give a fuck. The parade came and went. I didn't give a fuck. This year I'd go on top of the car, take pictures with all those people and share stories about these 4 interesting years that went by. I didn't give a fuck. Now, weirded out by that strange condition, I started wondering and I came to a conclusion: I don't give a fuck. The man I once was has left the building. I can no longer see what he sees, even though we share the same eyes, for our minds took different paths at the critical crossroad every man happens across but a few times during a lifetime. About this, I do give a fuck.