critical analysis


L Hine's photo 1908

Who are these people
Who insist on defining you
as good or bad,
worthy, trustworthy?
Who are these people
Who think they are God,
Able to say where you fit, misfit,
How you have to portray yourself,
in tie, black-tie,
lead yourself.
Who are these people
who sit besides and imagine they are more
who live and dress to superior looking others
who know them better.
Who are these dressed up people who betray you
at the very first opportunity?
Who are these people who find themselves
walking through life on some special carpet
entitled to something
you are not.
Who are these people
Who have a concept prior to any of your comments
’cause they will not allow you
to say what is deeply ingrained in your mind.
Who are these people
who believe they are more
wondering inside themselves
their real ideas are made of grass,
and for a slip of second,
the entitled self,
Can just walk on by,
Seeing nothing else than the scenery
Knowing profoundly that nothing else exists.
Don’t cheat yourself
putting value on something
you don’t know other than soil,
just made to exist.





This is not a reference to religion of any sort. It is mentioned in “A course in Miracles”, a book worth the reading. However, before the miracle I have a true story I want to tell.

I enjoyed a cappuccino while saying good morning to my FB friends. Afterwards, I decided to go for a run, something I always do when I have the time.

Oh, if you don’t know it, traffic in Brazil is not only heavy but also crazy.
You can imagine the potential on a Monday almost 12pm.

I went by a particularly known route of mine. I observed a butterfly in different tones of yellow and orange finding it quite unusual. While crossing one specific street seeing that the traffic was stopped by the red sign I ran across and decided to enter the pathway.

Jogging down the street and passing by the front of a school I heard this “bang” right behind me. My impression was that a light post had exploded.

I had my headset on. Almost in a theatrical way I looked behind me to see a car, which has been stopped by the only tree on my side about 10 meters away from me.
I didn’t understand anything.
I got back there and saw lots of soap spread all over it, which seemed coming from somewhere inside the engine. The front part of the truck was heavily damaged and I still didn’t see anyone in the driver’s seat. I came closer yelling ‘hi, are you ok?’ And still not a sound.

Someone from the store in front came from the other side, saying there was a child inside. All of us looked at each other almost panicking. I opened the door and the boy screamed for his mother. I took the opportunity to comfort him saying that she would be coming in a bit. The mother was running in a panic
Asking for her son and seeing him fine, she explained what happened.
The truck was hit by the back and when she realized it, she left the car, forgetting the brakes, and leaving the boy inside. The car went downhill just stopping because of a tree.

Recalling the random path the car took (someone mentioned it actually changed direction) I realized I was the only person on the street and if I did not have my headset on, I would not be telling this story so calmly.

Safe and peaceful by then, I was able to calm down mother and child, who was pointing to the broken parts of the vehicle on the ground with his little hands as if completing a puzzle.

I was still figuring out the why I was there at that moment.
The only thing I knew is that God was yelling at me saying that She had my back.

Juggling with the recent facts I passed by the same street I ran the day before observing the exquisite colors of flowers I haven’t seen previously. I also listened to birds of all kinds and astounded with the beauty surrounding the neighborhood, which I am so used. Another yellow butterfly passed by me, reminding me of what some call a miracle.

Now I can say something really happened on my way.

Unpredictable day: Spending St Patrick’s Day In Montreal in very good Brazilian company!


St. Patrick’s Day, some years back…

Beautiful day for St. Patrick’s Day Parade in Montreal.
Where are you? you? hello!!??
You said you would go to a family birthday even though you don’t do half of them.
At least, you were conscious about that…
Well, it was still St. Patrick’s day and I was hanging out with a bunch of drunkard but happy people…
In Dublin, it is known as the climax of a five-day festival.
I see I did not prepare myself to be at the parade at St. Patrick’s at least not in Montreal that very year.

The weather was still very cold, but felt good. I, myself felt anxious though. Probably I was just missing you. I can be like that, bored by being too close but when you are not there, it feels just unbelievably unbearable…

Did Freud ever explain that?

St. Patrick is definitely one of my preferred saints.
I once felt a close feeling towards UK. I guess I still do. In Montreal, about 160.000 of the 3.4 million people in the Greater Montreal claimed their Irish heritage, according 2001 census.
In Toronto, nearly 143.000 claimed the same, even though this data was based on the immigrants counted coming from all the United Kingdom.

However, many people can be more related to the Irish heritage than me, maybe also to St. Patrick. I don’t blame them.
According to the World Book Encyclopedia, the Patron Saint of Ireland was born around the year of 389 in what is now England.
At the age of 16, he was sold into slavery in Ireland, and later he moved to France.
He returned to Ireland about 431 to work as a missionary. While there, he wrote ‘Confession’, a book that detailed his spiritual development. He also wrote ‘Letter to Coroticus’, who was a criticized English chieftain for his raid in Ireland.
Contrary to the myth, he did not flee the island of snakes by charming the reptiles and making them swim into the sea.
St. Patrick’s day was first celebrated in 1737, in Boston.
There, I can find myself very at home, very Irish.

Still, with no Irish heritage.




You just left the room.

There is nothing there


Not even me exist.

What am I without

Your dear presence
in here?




I am the wounded tiger.

I discovered this

After all the math was done.

All the expertise was exercised.

I am the subject

And Viktor Frankel never told me.

The healer and the wounded are the same.

I am the wound

To be exposed

To the world.

And be forgotten forever.


I am the subject

And just a number.

I want to be just a number this time.

And forget


The wound,

The pain,

The mask

Eternally existed.


I would like to

Forget the opera

And leave the mask


The stage

To be myself

For once

And for all.


Call me

The subject

And the object

To be humanized

And living


From the graveyard

That I was painfully buried

Years ago.


Let me start

My story

With life now

And not my own death.


Guga Kuertner –O jogador de tênis, o mentor e o Hall Internacional da Fama do tênis


Sexta-feira passada, em uma reunião em São Paulo, Guga, como Gustavo Kuertner é mais conhecido em todo o mundo, comemorou sua entrada no Hall Internacional da Fama do tênis. Ele declarou pela TV, semana passada, que finalmente ele poderia desmistificar o tênis como esporte apenas para outros países, sendo um dos nomes no Hall da fama internacional agora.

Juntamente com Pete Sampras, Andre Agassi e outros grandes nomes do esporte, o Tênis Hall em Newport, nos Estados Unidos, tem agora uma participação brasileira. Muito trabalho, investimento de tempo, da família e treino, treino  e mais treino fez deste um evento possível…

Mais do que dizer que esta homenagem foi absolutamente bem merecida, eu gostaria de abordar o Guga de verdade, aquele que foi 100% apoiado por sua mãe e irmãos, vivendo em Florianópolis, no sul do país. Pessoalmente, eu adoro a cidade que é uma mistura de cidade grande, com bons projetos de expansão e que é suportada pelo que eu chamo de “as melhores praias do Sul”.

Gustavo, um cara de família que teve que se aposentar muito cedo devido a lesões físicas, ainda continua a carreira num grande projeto com crianças carentes e com deficiencia, que adoram tênis mas não tem acesso ao esporte. O projeto continua a crescer desde quando começou. Mas acima de tudo, o carisma que Guga tem desenvolvido através do instituto é visível. Parece-me óbvio que a paixão que uma vez foi aplicada ao esporte, pode ser aplicada em qualquer ramo pelo que originalmente ele, Guga, se apaixonou.

E afinal de contas, desculpem os muitos elogios, de antemão justificando que eles são todos aplicáveis neste caso, eu tenho que enfatizar uma última coisa que como uma boa observadora posso assinalar. Guga tem uma modéstia interna, se me permite dizer,  que está acima de toda esta conquista. O que ele faz é simplesmente compartilhar com a família e com amigos leais, o amor extremo por sua terra natal e as lágrimas sinceras que também divide em momentos como este.

Guga Kuetner – the tennis player, the mentor and the Tennis Hall of Fame


Today in a meeting in Sao Paulo – Brazil, Guga, as Gustavo Kuertner is better known around the world, was celebrating his induction to the Tennis Hall of Fame. He declared to a Brazilian channel that he could ‘de-mystify’ tennis as a sport just for other countries by being one of the names in the International Hall of Fame now.

Together with Pete Sampras, Andre Agassi and other big names of the sport, the Tennis Hall in Newport has a Brazilian participation now. Lots of work, family time investment and training, training, training made this event possible…

More than saying that this homage was absolutely well deserved, I would like to address the real Guga, the one who was 100% supported by his Mother and brothers, living in Florianopolis, in the South of the country. I personally, love the city, which a mixture of big city with good projects for expansion, and supported by what I call the best beaches of the South.

Gustavo, a family guy who had to retire very early due to injuries, still continues developing projects in his career, specially keeping a keen project with disadvantaged kids, who love tennis but don’t have access to this expensive sport. But most of all, the charisma that Guga has developed through his career is visible. It seems obvious that the passion once applied to the sport can be in any branch of what one originally fell for.

And after all, sorry for the series of compliments, justifying that they are all applicable in this case, I have to emphasize one last thing that a good observer can point out. Guga has some internal modesty, if I may say, in all this accomplishment. All he does is sharing with family and loyal friends, with the love for his homeland and in  the sincere tears he also expresses at moments like this.