CANTO DA CEREJA

Tokyo is a contradiction I could happily live with. Silent where you expect noise. Completely mad where you expect order. Neon, temples, immaculate streets, tiny details, enormous crowds — and fashion that seems to have absolutely no interest in asking anyone's permission. Which, obviously, I approve of. And then there was Onitsuka Tiger . Now that requires serious cultural research. By cultural research, I mean shoes. Because you cannot go to Japan — certainly not my Japan — and ignore Onitsuka. There is something wonderfully Japanese about the story of the brand: starting with performance, experimenting, solving problems for athletes, and eventually producing trainers that became fashion icons around the world. And then came Mexico '66. Yellow. Black stripes. Uma Thurman made that combination impossible to forget. I didn't need them. This has never been a relevant criterion when buying shoes. The Tokyo stores are another experience altogether: tourists, walls of trainer...

MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS 🍒 People are entitled to their opinions. Absolutely. They're also entitled to keep them. I've reached an age where unsolicited opinions have become rather like spam emails: I don't remember subscribing, I'm not particularly interested, and I certainly won't be clicking the link. You don't like what I wear? Fascinating. Do you think I should behave differently? Noted. Do you have thoughts about how a woman my age should look, speak, dress, travel, spend her money or live her life? How wonderfully exhausting for you. Here's the thing: If your opinion doesn't pay my bills, book my flights, buy my expensive shoes , feed my dog, or fund my questionable decisions... it doesn't actually come with voting rights. So judge away. Just don't confuse your opinion with my problem. Mind your own business. I'm rather busy enjoying mine. 🍒 And judging by the price of my shoes, I really can't afford to care. 😎 #MindYour...

DEAR SEPTEMBER 🍒 Show me how good life can get. And please, don't be subtle. I've had enough character development to last several lifetimes. I don't need another lesson disguised as a disaster. I don't need another “everything happens for a reason.” And I definitely don't need another opportunity to become stronger. I'm strong enough. Thank you. This month, I'll take the good stuff. Unexpected trips. Long dinners. Ridiculous laughter. Good news arriving without a plot twist. People who mean what they say. Shoes I absolutely did not need. Cherries, whenever possible. 🍒 And the kind of moments that make you think: Oh. So THIS is what all that nonsense was preparing me for. I'm not asking September to change my life. I quite like my life. I'm simply giving it permission to show off a little. So, dear September… No tests. No lessons. No personal growth assignments. Bring the good stuff. I'm available. 😎

  Hoje, o meu coração está em luto. Ontem, estava doente, sentada na minha sala à espera da médica ao domicílio. Liguei a televisão, talvez para me distrair um pouco, e estavam a dar algo sobre o Papa — diziam que estava doente. E naquele momento, senti algo estranho, uma intuição súbita, quase silenciosa, que me disse: o Papa Francisco morreu. Mas não. Naquele instante ainda não tinha morrido. Só mais tarde, algumas horas depois, é que veio a confirmação. Que estranha esta intuição. E que fundo ela me tocou. O Papa Francisco morreu. E é um dia muito triste para mim. Para os católicos. Para os não católicos. Para todos os que, de alguma forma, encontraram nele um símbolo de compaixão, coragem e mudança. Fui criada na Igreja Católica. Mas quando o meu pai morreu, a minha fé estilhaçou-se. Não a perdi de forma dramática, apenas… afastou-se de mim. Tornou-se pequena, desbotada, irrelevante. E depois, anos mais tarde, apareceu o Papa Francisco. Um homem que não precisava de levantar a...