Catarina Osório de Castro
Galeria Av. da Índia - Atelier de Lisboa

That's how we were once. Cold sensitive on a winter day, gills in the water. We jumped spontaneously, in the hay, in the cotton, and outside it was raining. The grandmother smiled with her eyes, the sparkle was sincere and the earrings, two pearls dangling. The cotton body fell to the grass, the ship passed. I took off my shoes and felt the heat of the rug. 

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