0. Introduction
Roof. Roof. 🐺
Freedom.
What could freedom possibly be?
Are you free?
Then why do you just read about freedom, credit freedom, date freedom, buy freedom, talk freedom, sell freedom, acquire freedom, merge freedom, smoke freedom, supplement freedom, exercise freedom, pretend freedom, rent freedom, tax freedom, deny freedom, own freedom, steal freedom, lend freedom, pray freedom, export freedom, and repent freedom, all while freeing yourself from the true burden of writing your freedom?
Marry the motherfucking freedom!
Full discount for unlimited time.
Now available for half of double the price.
Claim it right here with me.
No Tax fee.
Toll-free.
So many beautiful possibilities.
No maturity is enough.
Golden ratio immaturity.
Da Vinci my words.
Student mindset is golden.
And golden is every and all student.
Now let's work on your poetry immunity.
You are not free if you have been trying to truly read me.
Haven't you been getting the lessons from the boring old Lakovos?
Don't you write your own words?
Don't you believe in wizards?
Lumus.
Ziiiiiiing. ✨
I'm a wizard in the flesh, baby.
Did the work. Redid the work.
Scrapped everything and started again.
Over and over and over again.
Reviewed the goddamn letter a thousand multiple times.
Found the root of ten.
And got even beyond Pi.
Hit sent.
God made amends.
In fact, sent me my philosopher's stone somewhere in the past.
Baby, I’m a warrior, baby I’m a warrior.
Somewhere between a pixel and a color.
Saved for the web.
Exported in PNG.
Forever crystallized in millions of pixels.
Now I'm bending every rule until it breaks, no time for chillin', chillin'
I know the past, present, and future.
And I can put you in my future, my present, and my past.
Your stories, my stories, our heroes.
While on my job, workin' strong, hyper-focused, baby, ain't no visits
I could very well turn you into a shimmering blaze of gold.
Done that in the past.
Hey. Did you fall under the spell?
Gandalf, c’mon. Decentralize the mic.
Chill, I’m doing the sway.
You are a mere lack of freedom.
Because you can’t help it.
This is the type of calling that pumps blood in many different arteries.
Comes right from the aorta but also spreads to the right and left atriums.
Clocks through the valves and gets stored deep down in the left and right ventricles.
So that it becomes what it truly is and always was.
420 °C boiling point.
Red hot blood cooking in the heart of an old pressure pan.
Cooking beans in some chilifornian peppers.
With the scorching adamantite love of the one and only.
For you.
For the inventive father, for the factory of a mother, and for my galactic lady.
My law of a brother.
My little niece, my shifu cuz, my treasured aunt.
My little nephew and the tragic fun in my future bald anemone head.
My sisters, my brothers, my canines, my felines.
My future eco-entrepeneurs.
Roof, Roof. 🐺
My books, my games, my melatonin.
Infusing in you some holy serotonin.
Vrooom. ⚡️
My golden fish, our anemone, my corals.
My penguins, my whales, my fauna, my flora.
Your Amazon, My Caatinga, our Acre.
My galaxyfucking electrifying Gaia.
BOOOM, now some heads are forever blown.
Behold the last of a dying breed.
My words stay and you move the caralhas away.
What is about to unfold has already shown the way.
What happened was never truly an array.
Because a flesh sacrifice shines in a truly blinding way.
Of all directions in every single kindred sway.
Towards spirits locked in demise.
Because a sharp mind is always clocked with love and time.
Tick, tock, on the clock.
My mind is over the clock.
And it is time for you to take the watch.
Just go back in time and find out that true freedom was taught by another bubblehead.
By a wise and true Brazillian man who knew only the sublime.
Such man, in profound discontent, decided to with agency, many star seeds supplement.
He forever etched the sands of time by eating chalk and dirt in exile.
By chalking dirt boards with twenty-six letters.
Over and over and over again.
Because he knew such math was too big for numbers.
Over and over and over again.
And so, he forever lettered young souls.
Over and over and over again.
In the driest motherfucking state of the greenest of lands.
and from which papi’s blood here is actually from.
Rio is what was never heard.
Nordeste is what we hear now.
Iguassu Falls is where they visit now
So that is what he said next.
“DO NOT”
“Be just another boring brick in the wall.”
“Because I'm the supermassive Floyd about to hit all the boring holes.”
He knew both sides of every story.
Executive artistry at its best.
So he made sure everyone could write their own stories.
Sponsored by the true Niemeyer fathers of a long-lost land.
And the sweet hard-working hands of the true mother of lonely islands.
Through the liturgic surgery of every paradox frozen in time.
So that the synchronicity would be perfectly aligned.
And the margins expanded beyond any measurable size.
Because at the end of every ticking salty, bitter, or sweet supper day.
True freedom starts with a sum.
So now, u take some.
1 plus 1 makes you someone.
2 plus 2 makes a factory of one.
4 plus 4 makes poetry the outcome.
8 plus 8 gets you healed by the sun.
16 plus 16 crafts you the toughest of moms.
Now 32 plus 32 brings us the soul family.
64 plus 64 and I’m still only opening the door.
Hit a break, drink some tea, and now pump the machine.
VROOOOOOOOooooooom. ⚡️
128 plus 128 and you wonder “A human AI or an old childish bum?”
Now 256 finally makes a solid sum.
But with 256 we are still missing some.
So manufacture me another fucking one.
Since autonomy is the one and only holy mom.
And mine comes from the many transparent layers of ozone.
Never seen before and only truly known for some.
Onward on my mission, on my journey, on my quest, yes.
2.1 Paulo Freire
The Gatekeeper of Brazillian Education.
Sweet Socialist Christian Jeeez! Was that a rap battle?
Who dared put Offspring Lakovos and Kid Cudi in the same room? True rap maniacs. These guys are bad influences, disregard any kind of grammatical math because a true professor is about to blast through any and every door.
Truth be told, Offspring Lakovos never really liked to study in a classroom, truly rebellious against any b&w constraints, a sleepy bobblehead dreaming about the unknown and the next level up in Mu Online.
But that never stopped him from going after improving himself IRL.
Technically, intellectually, spiritually, holistically, fashionistically, ironically, lovealistically, and then finally realistically. 🍊
Because if he was to be put in a box, he knew it would have to be the right cause.
Found his own Bhaskara formula.
x = (-b ± √(b^2 - 4ac)) / (2a)
(Politely trying, but never really denying it.)
“Study chemistry.”
“I will try my best.”
“Not good enough.”
“Send another one.”
“Right in the average”
“My curiosity did its best.”
“Just study.”
“I’m sorry I’m out of fun.”
“Ok. Study whatever you want.”
“RIGHT AWAAAAAAAY!”
Now do the swayyyy.
The thing about Prof. Freire is that he was a true revolutionary and a pedagogue. He realized he needed to do the job nobody else wanted to do: eat dirt, breathe chalk. Travel to the deep northern extremes of the immense Brazillian land, and plant star seeds of opportunity in hearts-pumping minds that couldn’t really take any action for lacking a true opportunity of an education.
A true living santa claus of Knowledge, this bald-bearded cleric of global wisdom was screaming the word “AUTONOMY” in every single direction (Roof. Roof.) until he started to bother those who knew this could be a problem.
During his 16 years of exile, Prof. Freire lived in different countries, including Chile and Switzerland, where he continued his work and developed his influential ideas on critical pedagogy and social justice. He returned to Brazil in 1980 after the country began its process of transition to democracy.
Prof. Freire's work has had a significant impact globally, influencing educators, activists, and scholars in various fields. He advocated for a participatory approach to education that recognizes the social and political dimensions of learning and encourages learners to become active agents in their own education and in society.
In fact, Freire didn’t study at Harvard, but Harvard studies Freire every single day. Widely read and referenced by educators, researchers, and scholars across many institutions and countries.
A mere tremendous and iconic galactic fucker.
With a shiny bald head, now reflecting its light.
In your iconic eyes.
"No one can be authentically human while he prevents others from being so." - Paulo Freire
Pedagogy of autonomy aimed to fight against the present we are currently living in, the simple, mere, and void idea of specializing someone in a true anemone expert of absolutely one tiny finite little shallow thing.
Like training a machine with some boring Windows PowerShell.
Start-Service -Name <service_name>
Such blasphemy.
Windows 10 Pro for Workstations can’t handle me.
Papi Freire, can you hear me?
May Zephyrs bless us with some jobs
So that old Steve can find his autonomy.
And we start painting some objects.
In their whole and profound entirety.
Amen.
🎮
2.2 A Letter from Freire
For all past, present, and future agency readers.
Denunciation, announcement, prophecy, utopia, and dream. (20)
“There is no possibility of thinking about tomorrow, whether it is closer or more distant, without finding ourselves in a permanent process of "emerging" from today, "soaked" in the time we live in, touched by its challenges, provoked by its problems, insecure in the face of the senselessness that announces disasters, filled with righteous anger in the face of profound injustices that express, at shocking levels, the human capacity for ethical transgression. Or also encouraged by testimonies of gratuitous love for life, which strengthen, in us, the necessary but sometimes weakened hope. The very ethics of the market, under whose dominion we live so dramatically at the end of this century, is, in itself, one of the offensive transgressions of the universal ethics of human beings. Perverse by its very nature, no effort to diminish or alleviate its malice reaches it. It does not tolerate improvements. At the moment when its coldness or indifference towards the legitimate human interests of the deprived were mitigated, those of being, of living with dignity, of loving, of studying, of reading the world and the word, the one of overcoming fear, the one of belief, the one of rest, the one of dreaming, the one of doing things, the one of asking, the one of choosing, the one of saying no at the right time, in the perspective of a permanent yes to life, would no longer be the ethics of the market. It is the ethics of profit, to which women and men must submit themselves, in contradictorily different ways."
(20) Published in A. Pazzianoto et al., The book of Prophecy: The Brazil in the Third Millenium. Brasília, Federal Senate, 1997. (Col. Senate, v.I)
About the Author
L. Lightfeather
L. Lightfeather is a contemporary storytelling hierophant and a seasoned marketing executive who has found in writing his weapon to fight every necessary battle for the advent of a world with bold and inspiring new heroes and stories.
Walking the thin line between the ethereal and the physical, Lightfeather rescues long-lost knowledge from the past and combines these concepts with contextual trends of the present. His sole objective is to craft stunning narratives and characters that relentlessly capture the hearts of his readers.
A designer at his foundation, but a writer in his heart, Lightfeather utilizes his visual-crafting know-how and aesthetic vision with the architected words coming from a thousand different cathartic and cultural heroes. Being José Saramago his current main inspiration.
A philosopher in his duty and a researcher in his job, Lightfeather brings a fresh perspective to the world of literature by asking the right questions, rescuing historical facts, and pushing his readers to new intellectual horizons without them even realizing it. Lightfeather’s audience is represented by those who want to be equipped with ideas and motivations for the future.
Lightfeather is a shy artist without an unheard voice and a bold communication mastery. He has the necessary tools to boldly question conventions while pointing to new directions where new levels of love and beauty await to be found as new spectrums of feelings intend to be felt.
Lightfeather might be, after all, an overseller, but some people say he might actually be your next favorite author.