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About Me

Hi...
I'm Júlio.
And the "B." is not an abbreviation of my last name.
It's just a personal tribute to the longstanding relation that I have with some circumstances around me. Heteronyms are kind of boring, but not the coincidences. I always preferred the B-Sides. The Beatles, Belle And Sebastian, and Blur are my three favorite Bands (all of them British Bands), and I live in Brazil, in a city called Belo Horizonte (which means Beautiful Horizon), and I like boys, and I like a Book with a mysterious asteroid supposedly called B612, etc.

I know, it wasn't something original, but I chose The Little Prince as a kind of theme for this site, I guess it's due to another convergence in my particular universe - my childish bitterness, the roses and snakes in my way, and all the things in which I believe and that the fox said to him.

My little world is an eager hope that hurts sometimes. I travelled for seven planets before I came back here, through the poison of a promise that is still in the air. The long and winding road I have coursed has its roses, but I must say I've found more thorns until now. But I have to keep walking, from place to place, sleeping in a neighborhood and waking up in another. I can't remember in how many beds I already slept, in most of them I was alone. I left wreckage of my dreams in so many places that I just can't go back to take them anymore. Now, I must dream everything new. In Curitiba I tried the biggest shot. All I got was an open scar of aging that I will take with me until the end. Those were the best days of preparation for the life yet to come. Belo Horizonte is a city that divides me in two, enchants me, and disturbs me. It's where I live now. Where I try to rebuild my dreams in these days so much better than the past. B and H are, coincidence, the two letters that I like the most.

"I had a dream. I came in through the bathroom window like a lizard on a window pane in the last day on earth, and I waved goodbye. I was fading in the morning light, just another lonely heart that will be lulled by the stars. I was told to choose a way, choose a job, choose a life... It always sounded so fake to me. I chose myself. I felt a difference inside when I looked at everything around with no judgement. It sets me free, but freedom is so fucking lonely. I celebrated alone most of my unbirthday parties (though a lot of people have been invited), but it was a real good time anyway. I'm as mad as a hatter, yeah, that's how I am... drinking some tea at 5 a.m. I keep going by any yellow brick road, because I already realized that what really matters is the journey, what I can live in every present moment and place, despite of circumstances. Of course, I felt a little bit lost after all, because I never had luck, and I never had love. I just walked down the street, and danced under a rain of frogs. I did all I could to get wiser, to save me. It did happen. I had a dream. I still have some. I will have many more."

I write some verses, some texts, and some other stories, and I publish it all here. I write with no censure, and with no need of approval in any way. I am aware of my subjectivity and of my intentions. I know some can't even consider as literature what I do, but I really don't care, I just keep writing. Writing goes beyond a hobby, or a profession, or a way to escape the routine or reality, writing is, first of all, a dangerous pleasure that I allow myself to experience all the time. Some might see depressive aspects in the things I write. No, no. From the bottom of any depths (and that's where I spent most of my time), I always wrote about the possible ways out. I can't get rid of the optimism, and this is the cause of most of my frustrations. But I respect my way of being, and I am able to laugh at myself and my contradictions, and laugh at the ironies of the circumstances. The sense of humor is always present, in the mannerisms, in the subtexts, in the acidity, in the unpretentious details. If we ever meet around, you probably won't see me down. And if you see me smiling, it will be a great start. I think it's more poetic to end with these words.

My Secret Hurt Of Growing Old

(Júlio B.)

World, world, strange world,
Even if I were a girl,
It wouldn't be less cruel,
It'd only be an attenuation touch.
World, world, strange world,
Why do you hurt my heart this much?

Ops... Where's the Image?

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