Dante in his Hell Had nine circles For the damned.

Here the number is twenty two, Inverted, going up into the sky, Arranged in a building painted The color of shit.

Here old crawl up the death spiral, And the young begin to swell up With the seeds of despair.

Look at Mother! How beautiful She is in the candle light! How tasty this meal will be Salted with her fresh tears!

Look up and you will see Vultures circling, circling. Look deep into these eyes To hear songs still unsung. So let's join them and sing.

Few lines in response to, and for, Tatiana Cardeal's striking photographs on Prestes Maia.