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  • Driving on Av. Presidente Vargas, in Rio, my dad pointed to a equestrian statue and told me that Duque de Caxias, Patron of Brazilian National Army, was buried there. And I asked him: "with his horse and everything else?"

    When I looked at the majestic statue, I could see much more the horse than the man, so the idea seemed to be obvious in a first sight. Dad was flabbergasted!

    Okay, my absent-mind was anywhere else but looking around. Real people walk, and I was not walking, so my mind wasn't with me either - too realistic, my mind is.

    Some years later Leo and I left Curitiba and went to a town close to Rio where my dad keeps an apartment with many old stuffs - a granddad's heavy jacarand√° table, Medicine books and a doctor's office table in the kitchen. A man-sized and ugly slate table, too. I told Leo that table was from my dad's former office, and he didn't disagree of it, but said that was a morgue table. "Now it's in the kitchen. I know your family like to use everything until it's all broken".

    I remember when a friend warned me about the house showing our personality, how we configure our inner thoughts schemes. Our houses shows a lot about ourselves. We didn't set up a home the way we'd like yet and keep carrying with us much more of someone else's meanings than we'd like to. Many of our adjoined meanings have been embedded to other walls for now and we can't think that a rented house is temporarily us. That lessons of Feng Shui are unuseful, I think, and frankly I would not buy new mirrors or paint a wall or change wardrobes' place where I don't see myself for too long. Moreover, all seem to be so thoughtfuless custom-made that it's just a doll s house. A statue house.

    Then, why that Duke would not be buried with his horse? The good sense and Christian values distinguish both beings. A horse is an appendix for a person in action, as the instrument to compliment a mind compelled to act. The gathering makes both be one, but it sometimes happen that an always-in-action heart makes the horse headless. Then it happens to the person to carry the horse in his or her back, in the belly, in the heart - and not to be carried by the animal. Then, more then a Chironic Centaur that cures people with his own deadly wound, one becomes a beastiful enchantment of National ideals who wounds his or her own people to be a glorious... manhorse. In real History subjects I don't believe Generals were that noble, even being pacifiers.

    My father remembers my silly question with a laugh in every family reunion, and I do the same. I laugh at my weird world and this is the only way to be well with myself, or I would fall in the trap or the old morgue table and would never enjoy being in the kitchen. Real people walk by their own feet and know what beautiful horses are made for. Sometimes a misplaced furniture reveals our hearts of horses trapped in a misplaced present, wanting to act, run away and break the fences of the closest promised land . But is the grass really greener in our own neighborhood?

    (Pantheon of Duque de Caxias - Sculpture by Rodolfo Bernardelli. Photo by Alex Belchior at
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