The capital of vertigo,
of the hollow structures,
of the lack of space that evidences
the abyss between us,
capital of deviations
in our ways and looks,
of the events,
of circulation, of movement,
of the people oppressed in villages, favelas,
and occupations,
of the ugly smoke that arose
erasing people,
erasing
what has never been seen.

The debris are heavier
than the building.