#janeiro 2023

[eusoufunf]

espelho meu 21

As fotos mais bonitas que vi esse ano. Muito Brasil e eu tenho uma memória afetiva com cada um desses itens.

Lembro que na casa da minha avó paterna, tinha — talvez ainda tenha — um jogo de xícaras com essa mesma cor. No fim de tarde minha avó sempre fazia bolo e café servidos nessas xícaras icônicas. Acho que foi bem aí o meu começo do vício em café.

Na casa das minhas avós tem um filtro desses de barro. O sabor da água parece que é mais saborosa. Aquele gostinho leve de barro, lembrando um pouco o cheiro de terra molhada quando começa a chover. E independente do clima, a água sempre está gelada. Quando eu era mais novo eu tinha problemas com a letra L, e eu falava "frilto de barro"

Em 2011 eu morava com uma tia minha, ela é dona de bar. Eu sempre ficava no fim de tarde ou até madrugada sentado em uma dessas cadeiras e mesa de bar. Na época eu não bebia, mas em 2022 eu fui visitar essa minha tia e todos os dias eu estava sentado com ele em uma dessas mesas. Jogando conversa fora e bebendo. Do pôr do sol até a madrugada.

Esse é um dos meus itens favoritos da vida. Acho belíssimo a estética do copo americano. E o melhor, foi feito por um brasileiro. Copo bonito e resistente, ótimo para beber café e principalmente cerveja. Reizinho do Brasil.

[acredittar]

Brasília, 11/01/2023

Posse da Ministra dos Povos Indígenas, Sônia Guajajara.

"O futuro do planeta é ancestral."

( Sônia Guajajara )

[kathlare]

echoes of the crash

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Amelie is thrust into a maelstrom of emotions as she witnesses a chilling crash during the Las Vegas Grand Prix. While Lando emerges physically unscathed, the incident stirs buried feelings and memories of their complicated history.

Wordcount: 1.1 k

Warnings: just fluff

request over here!

November 19th, 2023 - Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

Amelie paced back and forth in her Rio de Janeiro hotel suite, her heart pounding like the bass from the stadium she had just left. The city lights spilled through the large windows, casting a glow over the plush furniture, but Amelie was far from calm. It was just past midnight, and her second night opening for The Eras Tour had been electric, yet all the adrenaline from the show had drained from her body the moment she'd turned on the Las Vegas Grand Prix.

The small group in her suite—Elysia, Alex Wolff, and a couple of crew members—had initially been buzzing with post-show excitement, beers and takeout scattered across the coffee table as they tuned into the race. Amelie had even cracked a few jokes about the chaos of the Vegas track, her voice light despite the exhaustion creeping in from her performance. But then, on the fourth lap, everything shifted.

The screen showed Lando’s McLaren spinning wildly at Turn 12. Her stomach sank as the car collided with the barriers, the impact sending debris flying. The sound of the crash was muted through the TV, but Amelie swore she could feel it in her chest.

—No, no, no,— she whispered, her hand flying to her mouth as she sat down abruptly on the edge of the couch.

The commentators' voices rose in urgency, and the room fell silent except for the broadcast. The camera cut to Lando sitting in his car, motionless for a moment before he moved to undo his harness.

—Fuck,— Alex muttered, leaning forward in his seat. —He’s okay, right?—

Amelie didn’t respond, her eyes glued to the screen. She watched as Lando climbed out of the car unaided, waving to the crowd to signal he was fine, but the tightness in her chest didn’t ease. It wasn’t just relief—it was the flood of emotions she had been trying to keep buried since they’d reconnected in Mexico.

—Amelie?— Elysia’s voice was gentle, her hand brushing Amelie’s shoulder. —He’s fine. Look at him, he’s walking.—

Amelie nodded absently, her eyes still fixed on the TV as if blinking would make her miss some vital detail. She barely registered Elysia’s reassuring touch or the murmurs of conversation resuming around her. She knew Lando was fine—he had walked away, waved to the crowd, and was likely already cracking jokes with his team in the medical center. But knowing he was physically okay did little to quiet the storm raging inside her.

—Yeah, he’s fine,— she muttered, more to herself than to anyone else. But her voice cracked slightly, betraying the swirl of emotions she tried to suppress.

Elysia gave her a long look, her lips pressed into a thin line. Amelie didn’t need to say much for her sister to understand. Elysia always knew when something wasn’t right. She didn’t push, though, simply squeezing Amelie’s shoulder before retreating to her own seat.

Amelie stayed on the edge of the couch, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as the race continued. Her thoughts, however, were miles away from the chaotic Las Vegas circuit.

She hadn’t let herself think about it—about him—this much since October. Since that night in Mexico when they’d both been reckless and drunk, seeking comfort in the familiarity of each other’s arms. It wasn’t supposed to mean anything, just a moment of weakness between two people who had once been everything to each other. But it hadn’t stopped there.

They’d tried to convince themselves it was casual, no strings attached, just two people falling into old habits. But Amelie wasn’t stupid. She knew her heart well enough to know that wasn’t true. She could feel it in the way her chest tightened every time he called her “Ames,” in the way her skin warmed when he looked at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

And now, watching him crash—watching him walk away, thank God, but still feeling the panic linger—she couldn’t deny it anymore. She still cared. She still liked him. Maybe even more than she wanted to admit.

Her mind wandered back to the first time they’d met, years ago during the pandemic. Back when everything was simple and easy, when they were just two friends bonding over video games and late-night conversations. She remembered the way he made her laugh until her stomach hurt, how he always seemed to know exactly what to say to make her day better. Those memories felt like a lifetime ago, buried under the weight of everything that had happened since.

She’d let him in, completely and utterly, and he’d broken her heart. Not maliciously—Lando wasn’t cruel. But he was careless in the way that young and ambitious people often are. He had been too distracted by the whirlwind of his rising career, by the newness of someone else’s attention, to realize what he was losing. And she had been too proud to fight for him, too scared to show just how much he’d hurt her.

Amelie swallowed hard, blinking back the sting of tears. She hated feeling this way—vulnerable, exposed, like she was still the girl who had cried herself to sleep after they ended things. She wasn’t that girl anymore. She had grown, built a life for herself, achieved things she’d only ever dreamed of. She didn’t need him.

So why did the thought of losing him again make her chest ache like this?

Alex leaned back on the couch, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. —You okay, Ames? You’re really quiet.—

—Yeah,— she said quickly, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. —Just tired, I guess. Long night.—

Alex didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t press. He knew better than anyone how hard she could be on herself, how fiercely she guarded her emotions.

The race ended with someone else standing on the podium, but Amelie barely registered the result. Her mind was still replaying the crash, the sound of the impact, the way her heart had stopped when she saw his car hit the barrier. She hated how much it affected her, how much he still affected her.

When the others finally filtered out of her suite, leaving her alone with her thoughts, she sank onto the bed with a sigh. The city buzzed outside her window, a stark contrast to the quiet chaos inside her head.

She reached for her phone almost instinctively, her thumb hovering over Lando’s name in her recent calls. She wanted to hear his voice, to know for certain that he was okay. But she stopped herself. What would she even say? That she was worried? That seeing him crash had made her realize she still cared about him more than she should?

No. She couldn’t go down that road again—not unless she was sure he felt the same way. And even then, the fear of getting hurt again was enough to keep her from hitting call.

Instead, she set the phone down and stared at the ceiling, the weight of her emotions pressing heavily on her chest. She liked him. She had never stopped. But liking him meant opening herself up to the possibility of heartbreak all over again, and she wasn’t sure if she was ready for that.

Not yet.

[girlygirlwebdiary]

Miami beach girly 🌮👙🐚🐬🌴

[paramooreee]

THAT'S WHAT YOU GET Rio de Janeiro, Brazil • 2023

[damiannasworld]

Qualistage, Rio de Janeiro 01.11.23

📸 juliafpimenta justmada.lena

[8iunie]

RUSH! photos from the box set part 1 part 2 part 3

📸 damianosmercury

[girlygirlifestyle]

Summer is summering ☀️🌊👙

[wiiildflowerrr]

Luke in his cropped, backless button-up... and with a fan

23 July 2023

[toutplacid]

Grille à l’extrémité de l’avenue Ruysdael, donnant sur la place de Rio-de-Janeiro, Paris 8e – stylo bille 8 couleurs, carnet n° 139, 15 octobre 2023.

[eusoufunf]

nós respondemos 41

Agora que estou na maricotice, acho uma perda de tempo. Hoje ainda acho bom, divertido virar a noite bebendo, mas quando estou na balada dançando. E até isso eu estou evitando.

Estou cansado já, já virei muitas noites enchendo a cara e fazendo merda quando estou loka de pinga.

Hoje em dia bebo com menos frequência, não vejo mais graça em ficar bêbado demais e a ressaca vem mais forte depois dos 30.

Última vez que virei a noite bebendo eu achei realmente divertido. Foi no aniversário do meu irmão, em dezembro de 2022.

Em janeiro agora, eu estava sem nada para fazer em casa e comprei duas garrafas de vinho. Fiquei em casa ouvindo música, dançando e bebendo. Foi bom, adoro ficar em casa bebendo sozinho e dançando como se eu realmente soubesse dançar muito. Foi alegre, mas após secar duas garrafas de vinho, eu amanheci morto.

Há um ano atrás eu faria isso numa boa. Duas garrafas de vinho desciam tranquilo.

Mas hoje estou tipo a música da Carly Rae Jepsen, Party For One.

A música e o clipe contam sobre você estar sozinho e se divertir com sua própria companhia. Fazer sua própria festa mesmo sozinho.

Atualmente ainda viro a noite bebendo, mas com menos frequência que antes, já bebi demais. Adoro uma festa sozinho, mas agora está diferente.

Ano passado eu ficava duas ou mais vezes na semana virando a noite bebendo cachaça, uma vez em casa e outra vez na rua. Ou sempre em casa, ou na rua.

Em época de férias, era dia sim, dia não. Ainda repito este meu ritual de festejar sozinho, mas com menos frequência. Agora é uma vez no mês, talvez duas. Adoro beber em casa, colocar minha playlist de músicas para cantar e dançar e ficar louco até o efeito do álcool ir acabando. Depois que acaba a bebida e eu começo a ficar sóbrio, ouço minhas músicas tristes e é nesse momento que eu mais escrevo. Tipo agora.

Já são 05:04 da manhã e eu estou escrevendo a resposta para essa pergunta. E já fiz isso com muitas outras respostas que eu dei aqui.

Agora, acho uma ilusão beber tanto como eu bebia antes. Estou mais moderado, mas adoro a sensação de estar loka de pinga, me sinto mais alegre sendo o funf da garrafa.

[lachowski-chico-2021]

Francisco Lachowski for Numero Netherlands August Cover shoot photographed by Fernando Sippel in Rio de Janeiro

[cbbyzac]

[rbd-soyrebeldetour]

O BRASIL TE AMA ✨💚

[neonlightsworld]

Rio de Janeiro- Copacabana

[bibibosposts]