This is the journey back. Back from Portel to Belém (Para, Brazil). Back from a reality that is easily hidden, but not easily forgotten. Back from the communities that eat cassava, fish and açaí, to the city that eats cassava, fish and açaí, and has banks, roads, theaters, and planes. Back to the same colors that we are used to see. There is a shade of orange, almost pink, that you can only find when you are crossing this part of the river, an immaterial place. Only when you are at the 3rd margin of the river as Guimarães Rosa used to say. I’m not sure if I ever truly saw it….can you see it now?
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