about

suscint

joão comes from tijuca, from rio de janeiro and from brazil. this order matters a lot. in the aftermaths of 2016 coup d’état in brazil, moved to berlin with a scholarship from poesiefestival/Haus für Poesie. matriculated at the humboldt university (german literature/hungarian studies). writes & translates everyday, everything, everytime-if possible. the self? a south-american migrant faggot who is particularly amazed by the infinite holes between languages and between genders.

what is my writing about?

I have been writing since I was a kid. In 2016, when I flew back to Rio de Janeiro in order to pack my bags and finally move to Berlin, I found among empty boxes at my parent’s appartement a collection of texts I wrote when I was 8 years old: a poem about a boy wandering along the road and following a balloon (which in the end was in fact a soap bubble), a humorous short-story about a thrilling burglary into a rich house and many, many others. The coincidence of finding these old writings was the final event that has almost ‘forced’ me to  accept my fate as a writer – or at least to acknowledge that for a long time I have been using words and fictionality at my own very desire.

I write “final” for some months before finding these relics, in March 2016, I won a poetry contest from Poesiefestival Berlin, which I perceived as a reassuring ‘calling’ as well. It was my first poem in German, sent only some few hours before the deadline – and one month afterward, as I received the confirmation of the scholarship I had been granted, I quited my old boring job as an Economist, left Brazil in the aftermaths of 2016 coup d’état, and forever I let go of Home.

Berlin is therefore the space where my writing started existing, at the present, as I write; at the past, as I rewrite. Or perhaps, also in the future, as I write forward. I simply cannot precise the time of my writing, but Berlin is definitely its space for now. At the same time I am connecting myself once again with this kid who at some point stopped writing, for unknown reasons, I am also exposing myself to a series of brand new experiences and feelings I have been collecting ever since I moved to here: the dismantlement of Home, the encounter of Queer, the awaiting of Transformations.

To a certain extend, I am therefore writing: to know why I stopped writing; to fulfill the gap of experiences that lay in between — my teens years at a catholic school, the childhood in 90’s Brazil; the inevitable Surrender –; and to make sense of Now.

These are the frameworks of my fictional writings.

Languages is what bring this framework to stand. And move. As a person, I enjoy very much living in the holes between languages and finding new things inside them. One moment I admire with lot of mystery is when I cannot speak because I do not know what language I should use. Exactly such a feeling is what I try to bring to my writings, in which I very often do not know what to say, nor which language to use. And I mixture them, I appropriate them in the benefit of the other. In the benefit of fictionality.