I slept warmly and snug as a bug, woke up to hear the birds in great São Paulo this morning and had a delightful breakfast a l’italienne with wonderful company at a once traditional bakery of the city. On my way back home, I finally made it to stroll over the infamous overpass known as the ‘Minhocão’. The sun was so generous to show up and break up with the pattern of the also infamous São Paulo’s drizzle. Watching people pass by reminded of Pina’s quotation: “I’m not interested in how people move; I’m interested in what makes them move.” Good old wise Pina Bausch. Then I found my way back home through the local market and couldn’t resist shopping for fish, lemons and a pot of purplish blue flowers of a kind I had never met before. It all made me think of the choreographer as having a strange role in the promiscuous business of art. We seem to be pimps to whom Life has become a favorite and sole whore. And, just like in Wilde’s Dorian Gray, we age and decay while Life just remains being what it always has. For a moment, I considered such a thought to be a sad one but soon realized it isn’t so. As all in Life, it just is.
Sampa snug as a bug
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