Jacaraipe Beach
The Three White Ladies (Zie, my mum’s sisters).
One of my most vivid memories: making bread with Uncle Paulo. He would usually pinch off a small piece of dough so I could pretend to help.
My aunt helping my uncle load the scrap metal onto his bike, which he’ll then go and sell.
This part of the bed belonged to my mum. Sometimes, when I couldn’t sleep, I’d stare at the centre of it and run my finger along every crack. A memory resurfaced.
Despite the different nuances or names, my family has always been united by faith.
Uncle Paulo prepares the iron, steel and aluminium that he’ll then go and sell. I remember we used to collect loads of tins when I was little. Then we’d crush them so we could fit more into the bags.
After 23 years, we’ve done it again together. Never leave a can behind!
Like father, like son. The cans collected at my cousin Hebert’s house.
I have few memories of this little church where my mum got married. Just scattered fragments of moments. My cousin used to play the drums here, and my mum played the guitar.
Encontro Games was the internet café where we used to get together to play. Not all of us had the latest consoles at home, so this was like a second home to us. Just before I left Brazil, the PS2 had just come out, along with *Final Fantasy X*.
I was lucky enough to bump into a few people whilst walking along the streets near where I used to live with my cousins. The girl in the middle is the one I remember best because she looks exactly the same as she did when she was as little as the daughter she’s now holding in her arms.
These pavements seemed so big when I was 7. I used to have fun rollerblading.
And to think we used to play football barefoot on this tarmac.
The view from my house as you head up towards the school at the top of the hill.
No longer suitable for rollerblading.
Halfway down this slope was the nest that my brother and I went to.
Pull it off and suck it.
I remember that little tree. I used to skate under it every time, thinking I was destined for the X Games.
My Aunt Rosa’s red house.
Passionist. The school I attended until I was 10.
View from the top of the hill. In the centre of the photo, in pink, is the house where I used to live.
Brothers
View from the Convent of Penha – Espírito Santo
Penha Convent
Uncle Paulo is going to buy some bread
Jacaraipe Beach
All dogs of this colour are called Caramelo
Queimadas Church
Family moments
Aunt Rita telling me her stories.
The view from my room at my aunt’s house
A son trying to sweet-talk his father into giving him something. I think the father has seen through him. My cousin Lucas.
Generations
We’re working from home here too.
View of the Convent of Penha
