Being Brazilian and having lived in Japan, Italy, England, Germany, and Portugal has taught me one thing: behind their different architectural styles, all cities hide the same blend of beauty and human decay. In my workspace, this diversity translates into an organized chaos of manga sketches, colored pencils, and loose change, while music sets the steady rhythm of my writing process.

As a writer, I’ve always been more interested in the hypocrisy of a “good man” than in the virtues of a hero. It is in these contradictions that I find the raw material for my stories. If you happen to run into me, we can chat about soccer or current events—but deep down, what truly moves me are hopeful endings. After all, as Racionais so aptly put it, “even in a garbage dump, a flower can blooms.”

However, there is something I deeply admire about humanity: the fantasy we carry within us. That’s why, even when my stories seem grounded in reality, they carry a spiritual, esoteric element—something that science, in its limited objectivity, can never explain.

In my stories, don’t expect a gentle beauty handed to you on a silver platter. It comes unpretentious, almost hidden, in this world full of hope. I’m here to write about the reflection in the mirror that no one wants to admit is their own.