saudosismico

[saudosismico]

ℳaria ℬeatriz 𝓔 ℱrancesco

Maria Beatriz and Francesco met in 1984, during a protest of the 1984 civil movement “Diretas Já!”. Maria, a devoted political activist, was in her last year of graduation in the University of São Paulo and Francesco had been living in São Paulo for over three years at the time, denouncing the atrocities of the dictatorship that ruled the country. 

At the time they met, Maria had been imprisoned and tortured by the military several times because of her leftist-political affiliations: she came from a family of Trotskyist activists, most of them ‘vanished’ from the map— taken and killed ruthlessly by the oppressing government. Having no place left to call home and no family to keep her around, once Maria graduated, she searched for exile in her lovers’ arms, going back to Siena with him.

Francesco was born in wealth— but chose the opposite path of everything he was raised to believe. The materialistic mindset felt shallow, purposeless. He ran away from home at only seventeen to never come back. He traveled from city to city, country to country, crossing oceans, registering wars and denouncing the effects of Imperialism on civilians, while looking, himself, for a place that felt like home. Which he found, right in Maria’s arms.

Their love struck them like a sucker punch. Unexpected, brutal, their breath taken away. And ever since, they’ve never left each other’s side. Once Maria got her Economics degree, they got married and escaped from the Brazilian's oppressive regime, moving to Siena, the place where they planned to grow old together.

Once Elio was born, their lives changed forever. The couple never had known such bliss before. The baby was a beam of sunlight: illuminating everyone around her, the haunting sadness of their past gone now that they’d met the purest definition of happiness. They built a home with a backyard where lilies bloomed and taught Elio how to dance and how to love. They taught her patience and kindness. To pursue dreams and express yourself with gentleness whenever you have the chance. To smell flowers and take care of all animals. To stay curious no matter what.

Love shaped their home and enveloped their family in warmth and, when Francesco died, life turned cold— empty. Maria never recovered from the fateful accident on the evening of Elio’s birthday. Grief takes form in many shapes and sizes, but it always leaves a feeling that the woman never found a translation to: saudade. A nostalgic longing to be near again to something or someone that is distant, or that has been loved and then lost; “the love that remains”.

Life was never the same. How could it? Both mother and daughter learned to laugh again, to see beauty and color in the world. The pain didn’t get smaller, they knew it never would; but they grew stronger. And the knowledge that love would always persevere in their home— not the place, but the feeling.

[saudosismico]

name: Francesco Portinari 

gender: male

pronouns: he/him

occupation: independent documentary and political photojournalist, poet.

birthdate: June 13, 1954

death date: September 23, 1994

birthplace: Padova, Italia

ethnicity: italian-iranian

face claim: John Turturro

[saudosismico]

name: Maria Beatriz Porto

gender: female

pronouns: she/her

occupation: Marxian economist, known for her work in economic methodology, class analysis and Latin American Marxism.

birthdate: September 09, 1963

birthplace: Rio de Janeiro, Brasil

ethnicity: brazilian

face claim: Fernanda Torres

[saudosismico]

𝖦𝖤𝖭𝖤𝖱𝖠𝖫𝖤.

name: Elio di Francesco Portinari

nicknames: Moss, Lilo, lily, Lou

gender: genderfluid

pronouns: she/they

orientation: bi

occupation: florist, writer

preoccupation: theatre of the absurd, botany, political activism

face claim: jenny slate

𝖲𝖥𝖮𝖭𝖣𝖮.

birthdate: September 23, 1988.

big three: Libra sun, Aquarius moon, Libra rising

moonphase: waxing gibbous 

alignment: chaotic good

birthplace: Siena, Italy

current residence: Siena, Italy

undergrad: NYU Tisch School of Arts

grad: L'Università di Firenze

𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖦𝖫𝖨𝖠.

Maria Beatriz Porto (mother) ‣ September 09, 1963

Francesco Portinari (father) ‣ June 13, 1954 - September 23, 1994

𝖯𝖱𝖤𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖨𝖳𝖨.

flowers: orange lilies, tropical hibiscus, peach orchids

writers: Dante Alighieri, Fernando Pessoa, Albert Camus, Clarice Lispector

musicians: Caetano Veloso, Steve Lacy, , Mitski

films: My Neighbor Totoro (1988), Dreams (1990), Central do Brasil (1998)

animals: koalas, bees, capybaras

[tba]

𝖫𝖨𝖪𝖤𝖲:

𝖣𝖨𝖲𝖫𝖨𝖪𝖤𝖲.

𝖧𝖮𝖡𝖡𝖨𝖤𝖲.

𝖯𝖤𝖱𝖲𝖮𝖭𝖠𝖫𝖨𝖳𝖸.

+ (positive attributes) : 

– (negative attributes) : 

[saudosismico]

(2010-2023)

𝑰t was on her first year back in Florence that Elio met Céline —a woman most certainly from the heavens—, a specialist on Albert Camus’ influence on European modern theatre through Caligula. Words came out of her mouth like the sweetness of a familiar melody; Elio closed her eyes — she fell in love with her voice first. Céline was skeptical about love, the feeling tainted after the end of a twenty years long marriage. There was a lasting hesitancy about getting involved with someone younger, with a whole life still ahead of her. But Elio was eloquent; passionate. A wonder and hunger for life burnt in her eyes, which reminded Céline of her own ardor — one that was hidden in the dark corners of her soul, but never really left, and had now been woken by the Sienese’s high spirit.

𝑻hey had only recently met each other—personally, that is: before Elio enrolled in her classes, her name was already familiar to Céline: she had read articles on her research, enchanted by her sensitive and sincere tone, which seemed to bring lightness to the rigid academic gaze. It was easy for Elio to watch her discuss the influence of Camus's Caligula on literary absurdism in debate circles, borderline hypnotizing, but their exchanges had been solely professional until then; conversations and encounters that relied on the coincidence of everyday life, through the marble corridors of the University, in-between lectures. A gentle push from the universe. But it was when Elio first went out with her new research colleagues, at the bar table on a Wednesday, that their eyes met, lingering for just a moment longer. Once, twice; conversations now lengthened, heated arguments escalating to a tension that melted inside their chests. 

𝑼ntil the day they bumped into each other at a play and the fervid conversation led to the nearest bar, where, between shots of whiskey and loose laughter, a confession revealed itself in the form of a gentle kiss Elio planted on her lips, not without first asking, her voice lower, after hearing Céline joke about some pseudo-philosophical comment she had heard from a colleague that same week: “Céline?” The brief pause, curating each word carefully now, an act of devoted attention, “posso darti un bacio adesso?”

𝑰ntimacy came naturally to them, almost instinctively. That first night of drunken kisses, leading to a comfortable morning, familiar in its simplicity: Céline drank coffee and read the newspaper on the apartment balcony, serenity undisturbed as Elio settled in with a book in the hammock beside her. She jotted notes in the margins and occasionally sipped her tea and ate grapes and bread. Soon, the smiles, almost like reflections of the unconscious, as they crossed each other at the campus’ cathedral halls. The second night, the water that dripped on Céline's warm skin as Elio calmly slid the soapy loofah over her shoulders, where moments before she placed devoted kisses. Céline's wet hand finding hers, the kiss she placed on her neck. Casual, unplanned encounters that extended into lunches, into walks downtown, into trips to the library, market, bed, and into each other's lives. There's no way to say precisely when company became routine: one morning, Céline woke up to find Elio's clothes lined up on the clothesline outside her house. And then she knew. The silent pact between two souls who share a life together sealed as Elio handed her a copy of the key to her studio apartment.

𝑻hey got married in a small chapel in Venice two years later, during a vacation mid-April, to celebrate Elio's Master's degree. The couple had already been living together for a few months, after almost a year and a half of dating, so an engagement felt redundant at that point: they aimed for something longer than eternity. It was Springtime and red chrysanthemums bloomed all around them as a promise of love, nature's simple reminder of how fruitful care and affection can be.

𝑭or eleven years, they shared a life, the quietness of a peaceful love: the dreams, the joys and the sorrows that only two people who truly understand and see each other could share. And for that time, both experienced a tenderness so pure that could only blossom inside a home built on complicity, and a loving intimacy carefully cultivated.

𝑻he realization that love was no longer enough came slowly, like a gold coin worn out with time, not because it’s become useless, but because it has been touched and carried around for so long. It felt like a blow to the stomach, but a slow one, the kind that twists and turns and leaves you in pure agony, like having her heart ripped apart- a visceral pain like nothing she had felt before. There was nothing they could have done to save them. No misunderstandings or arguments, simply the silent understanding of the end. Elio sometimes would wish they had fought, screamed, cried: fought harder for them. She tries to convince herself it was for the best and that maybe love wasn't enough, but at least they still had that much. And that feeling would never end; Elio knew, at last, she was capable of loving someone more than anything.

[saudosismico]

(2005-2010)

𝑨fter high-school, Elio went on to travel around Europe for a few months - a free spirited wanderer, she roamed around the continent, visiting her family in Italy but also exploring France, Spain and Ireland. It was during that time, at the last location included in her itinerary, that love struck Elio’s heart for the very first time, in the form of a brown haired girl with doe eyes and a smile that could end wars. Sophie Marie. They met at Porthcurno beach in Cornwall and, just like every feeling that’s too strong to contain, although frightening by its intensity, their encounter was passionate but short lived. Soon Elio had to go to New York to pursue a BFA degree in Theatre Study, so lovers forcedly parted ways; unbeknownst to them, the universe would work in their favour once more and grace both with a chance at a lasting love, for once. For the next four years, the lovebirds would refuse to leave each other’s side, engaging in a romance that involved shared beds, apartment bills and classes.

𝑩ut as all good things must come to an end, so did their time together. As beautiful as they were and as strong and solid their love had become, Elio and Sophie couldn’t escape the mischiefs of time. Treacherous time. Awarded with a scholarship to research Italian modern literature and theater, the Sienese flew back to her homeland, leaving behind a part of her heart, but with the hopes to find it again pursuing old dreams.

(2010-2023)

[saudosismico]

(1988-2005)

𝑬𝑳𝑰𝑶 was born of sunshine and a hungry desire to be one with the flowers. An aching melancholy clothed in light and a bubbly personality - curious, insatiable. Her first memory is cupping her small hands around a honeysuckle and breathing in its sweet scent, her eyes closed, a sign of reverence upon that subtle manifestation of sacredness.

𝑻he young girl first met loss on a quiet and warm Sienese night, much like this one. September 23 of 1994. Her father was out to buy candles for her 6th birthday, “I’ll be right back, Lily. Wait for me before eating all the tiramisu.” he said, and so she waited. And waited. But he never returned. The crash was quick - fatal. There was no time to feel any pain, her mother reassured her. Whether that was the truth or just a lie borne out of kindness, Elio never found out.

𝑭or the next couple of years, she would hide in the vineyard, laying in the grass under the Tuscan sun, and sing whispered lullabies, burying her fingertips in the dirt, a silent prayer - an escape from reality, even if only for a few hours, while spotting flower shaped clouds.

𝑨 few months after her 10th birthday, Elio left the Tuscan sun for the Brazilian tropical air. Her mother moved to São Paulo to finish her PhD, bringing the prepubescent Elio with her. They lived in the metropolis for about two years - it was a humble life, but oh! How much love and kindness inhabited that little two bedroom apartment on the west side of the city - an abundance of it! Life got sunnier once they got to Rio de Janeiro: bright, eloquent, cheerful. It felt right enough to make them stay there for the following decade. Day after day biking through the streets and parks, soaking in the sun at the beach, collecting freckles on her shoulders and cheeks, surfing, hikes and hand gliding all year long. She still remembers her first kiss, the lingering taste of salt and sand on her lips; it felt like greeting infinity through that girl’s lips. There wasn’t love, but a hunger, the young horniness of someone who’s just realized the beauty in desire.

𝑯er first girlfriend, Ayo, the woman who hid all the secrets of the universe under her voluminous hair - she would bury her face in her curls and breathe in every single one of them. They were one, the same being inhabiting two bodies at once, hearts beating to the same compass. Best friends all throughout high-school, until a fateful Sunday evening; she touches Elio’s cheek, she melts in her hands - so tender, it makes her curl up towards Ayo in a bow of devotion. Never was she touched with such intimate gentleness before. They’re yet too young to understand what it means to love so passionately - the consequences and risks of giving yourself so freely, to be willing to fall and still dwell yourself in that pleasing anxiety.

(2005-2010)

❁ family background

[saudosismico]

information ⟋ biography ⟋ solos ⟋ connections