Deus.I'M  
A memoir of Legends, Spirits Gods, Angels and The APP

The Complete Quartet by Sara Vieira

WWW.DEUSIM.US

 

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Book 1: The Awakening
Book 2: The True Hollywood Story
Book 3: I Built This Life and The App
Book 4: The Legacy Years

Copyright Page

DEUS.I’M
A Journey Through Spirit, Loss, and Light

© 2025 by Sara Vieira

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the publisher or the author, except for brief quotations used in reviews or scholarly works.

This is a work of nonfiction based on true events, personal experiences, and memories. Names, places, and details may have been changed to protect privacy.

For permission requests, contact:
deus.im.us.bubble@gmail.com

Cover design and layout by [FPO]

Printed in USA \  UK 

ISBN: 

First Edition, 2025

Dedication Page

To my Grandma, Grandpa, Daddy and Spirit Gods

You are the stars in the night, the moonlight that guides me, the pink sunrises and sunsets that light up the sky and the reason I believe in miracles.

This book is for the legends—those who came before me, those who walk beside me, and those still to come.

Aloha. Always.

Epigraph

Truly I tell you, if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.”

– Matthew 17:20

“Faith is taking the first step even when you don’t see the whole staircase.”

— MLK Jr.

Table of Contents

BOOK ONE: The Awakening 

Prologue – The Voices Were Real

Chapter 1: The Death That Woke Me Up

Chapter 2: California Love & Hollywood Spirit
Chapter 2.1: Vegas Visions & the Makaveli Moment
Chapter 2.2: Only God can judge me
Chapter 2.3: God Send Queens Too
Chapter 2.3: From Sunset to Spirit

Chapter 3: Hawaii - Smoke, Surf, Spirits
Chapter 3.1: Banksy, Spirit Formation & Stormy Shores
Chapter 3.2: Lord, This isn't How I Die
Chapter 3.3: When You Believe in Angels
Chapter 3.4: Queen Liliʻuokalani, Legends & the 9 Lives I Lived
Chapter 3.5: Judged by Spirit, Protected by Legends

Chapter 4.0: The Gods Sent COVID
Chapter 4.1: The Spirits sent me to Rocinha
Chapter 4.2: Friends, Facção, and Blessings
Chapter 4.3:  Resurrected: Three Surgeries, One Miracle & the Will to Begin Again

Chapter 5: LONDON - Living Like a Princess
Chapter 5.1: Rediscovering The City
Chapter 5.2: Dating Again
Chapter 5.3: Scanned, Judged, Still Blessed
Chapter 5.4: Kensington Routine
Chapter 5.5: The lights stayed on but i had to leave

Chapter 6: GERMANY - Lessons Across Continents
Chapter 6.1: A Blessing in Disguise

Chapter 7: Arrival in Búzios
Chapter 7.1: Echoes of Buzios
Chapter 7.2: The circle and the Spirits
Chapter 7.3: Whispers from the mountains
Chapter 7.4: When Paradise Burns Elsewhere - California Fires
Chapter 7.4: Spirits to Freedom

Chapter 8: ROME - Gladiators, Kings, and a One-Way Ticket

Chapter 9: LONDON - Frozen in the Kingdom
Chapter 9.1: Spirits in Transition
Chapter 9.2: Shadows and Truth About Tupac’s Death
Chapter 9.3: The Underground Pulse
Chapter 9.4: Lost and Found in London
Chapter 9.5: Between Prayers and Night Busses
Chapter 9.6: Surviving The Cold
Chapter 9.7: The Mental Breakdown
Chapter 9.8: Spirit Visits & Angels in the City
Chapter 9.9: Rage, Hospitals and Tupac’s Spirit
Chapter 9.10: Chelsea Drama & Subway Prophecies
Chapter 9.11: The Doctor’s Question
Chapter 9.11: Heathrow, Paradise Onesie
Chapter 9.11: Back in Bonfim

Chapter 10: Godson and Family - Spirit Intervention
Chapter 10.1: The Police and the Flip
Chapter 10.2: My Grandpa the Spirit Cop
Chapter 10.3: When Grandma Came Back
Chapter 10.4: The Spirit Lineage
Chapter 10.5: My Bubble Around the World
Chapter 10.6: Diana’s Eyes, Whitney’s Voice
Chapter 10.7: Godson Prophecy
Chapter 10.8: Legacy of Light - Tea, Tupac & The Gospel
Chapter 10.9: Three lions - The Boys I Chose in Búzios
Chapter 10.10: Reset at Pride Rock
Chapter 10.11: Writing from Bonfim
Chapter 10.12: Divine Destiny

Chapter 11: SPIRIT GODS, LEGENDS AND ANGELS
Chapter 11.1: Whitney Houston
Chapter 11.2: Tupac Shakur
Chapter 11.3: Wayne Dyer
Chapter 11.4: Walt Disney
Chapter 11.5: Steve Jobs
Chapter 11.6: Amy Winehouse
Chapter 11.7: Jesus & Matthew
Chapter 11.8: Job (from the Bible)
Chapter 11.9: Goddess Venus
Chapter 11.10: Hawaiian Legends
Chapter 11.11: King of POP
Chapter 11.12: Robin Williams
Chapter 11.13: MLK
Chapter 11.14: Keith Flint
Chapter 11.14: Juscelino Kubitscheck
Chapter 11.14: Tina Turner
Chapter 11.15: Franco Columbu & Martini
Chapter 11.16: Bruce Lee
Chapter 11.17: Kobe Bryant
Chapter 11.18: Soldiers, My 50s - the Spirits of New York
Chapter 11.14: Theodore Roosevelt
Chapter 11.20: Julius Caesar
Chapter 11.21: Maximus (Inspired by Gladiator)
Chapter 11.22: John F. Kennedy (JFK)
Chapter 11.23: Eddie Aikau
Chapter 11.24: Prince
Chapter 11.25: Avicii (Tim Bergling)
Chapter 11.26: Heath Ledger
Chapter 11.14: Ayrton Senna
Chapter 11.14: Pele
Chapter 11.14: Nelson Mandela
Chapter 11.14: Buddha
Chapter 11.14: Elvis Presley
Chapter 11.14: Hugh Hefner
Chapter 11.26: Paul Walker
Chapter 11.27: Rumi
Chapter 11.28: Muhammad Ali
Chapter 11.29: Mother Teresa
Chapter 11.30: Matthew Perry
Chapter 11.31: Albert Einstein
Chapter 11.32: Marilyn Monroe
Chapter 11.14: The Witches
Chapter 11.14: Maxi Jazz
Chapter 11.14: Sarah
Chapter 11.14: Pilahi Paki
Chapter 11.14: The Kings
Chapter 11.33: Queen Victoria
Chapter 11.34: Queen Elizabeth II
Chapter 11.35: Princess Diana
Chapter 11.36: My Father Pedro Martias e Silva
Chapter 11.37: My Brazilian Grandparents Vieira
Chapter 11.38: My American Step-Grandparents Parker

Chapter 12: Spiritual world
Chapter 12.1: Perspectives on spiritual connection with the spiritual world:
Chapter 12.3: Offerings
Chapter 12.4: Is it safe?
Chapter 12.5: Signs
Chapter 12.6: Missing things or help with moving
Chapter 12.7: How to explain ghosts.
Chapter 12.8: General advice
Chapter 12.9: Signs of Connection
Chapter 12.10: Past Celebrities
Chapter 12.11: Hidden Messages
Chapter 12.12: Past Loved Ones
Chapter 12.13: Heaven and the Spirit World:
Chapter 12.14: Important Considerations
Chapter 12.15: Cultural Connections with the Spirit World:
Chapter 12.16: Protecting Your Energy
Chapter 12.17: Distinguishing Messages
Chapter 12.18: Hearing voices can have various explanations, including:
Chapter 12.19: Witchcraft and Macumba:
Chapter 12.20: Angels and Messages from Heaven
Chapter 12.21: Mercury as the Messenger:
Chapter 12.22: Energy in Objects
Chapter 12.23: Portals in Hawaii:
Chapter 12.24: Drugs and Consciousness
Chapter 12.25: Old Souls
Chapter 12.26: Macumba:
Chapter 12.27: Attracting Love, Money, or Other Benefits:
Chapter 12.28: Prayers and Wishes
Chapter 12.29: Kingdom of God and Afterlife
Chapter 12.30: Spirits of Ancestors, Royals, and Celebrities:
Chapter 12.31: Final Reflections

Book two: The true Hollywood Story

Chapter 1 Roots and Resilience – Growing Up in Brazil
Chapter 1.1 Raised by Giants: My Grandparents
Chapter 1.2 The Lessons from My Aunties
Chapter 1.3 Identity, Belonging, and That Benetton Spirit
Chapter 1.4 Jungle Journeys and Amazon Memories
Chapter 1.5 A Childhood Etched in Love and Strength

Chapter 2 Expanding Horizons — My Alaskan Awakening
Chapter 2.1 A New Language, A New Identity
Chapter 2.2  Alaska Days of Discovery
Chapter 2.3 Light and Darkness in the Land of Extremes
Chapter 2.4 Becoming a Fighter
Chapter 2.5 First Love, First Loss
Chapter 2.6 Summer school and house parties
Chapter 2.7 The Pivot
Chapter 2.8 Alaska Taught Me Everything
Chapter 2.9  College life in Seattle

Chapter 3 Falling in Love with London: A Journey of Self-Discovery

Chapter 4 Amsterdam: The Detour That Changed Everything
Chapter 4.1 London Life, Expanded

Chapter 5: Wandering Through France, Switzerland & Italy
Chapter 5.1 Switzerland: A Journey of Beauty and Chocolate
Chapter 5.2 Italy: Eat, Pray, Love (and Pasta)

Chapter 6: Love in London
Chapter 6.1 The Next Day
Chapter 6.2 Aftermath

Chapter 7: Greece to Thailand via Egypt — A Close Call with Death
Chapter 7.1 Arrival in Thailand
Chapter 7.2 Full Moon Party and a Night to Remember
Chapter 7.3 A Cliff, a Jump, and a Life Saved
Chapter 7.4 Reflection

Chapter 8 Ibiza – The Party, The Chaos

Chapter 9 Portugal – A Breath of Fresh Air

Chapter 10 Seattle to hollywood
Chapter 10.1 We landed in LA on September 11th, 2001.
Chapter 10.2 From Car Sales to Major Networks: The Hustle Begins
Chapter 11.0 Spinning at Crunch and yoga at Equinox
Chapter 12.0 Working at Disney — A Surreal Journey into the Magic
Chapter 12.1 Breaking Ground with Flash and Park Integration
Chapter 12.2 Perfection, Pressure, and Pixel-Wide Warfare
Chapter 13.0 Freelancing for DreamWorks, Sony Pictures, ABC, and Fox Sports
Chapter 14.0 The Entertainment Industry – My Job at CBS and the Stars
Chapter 15.0 Losing My Grandpa and His Light to the Sky
Chapter 16.0 The Emmy Dream and NBC Family
Chapter 17.0: The London Awakening and the Big Decision
Chapter 18.0 The Caipirinha Wake-Up Call
Chapter 18.1 The Night Everything Fell Apart
Chapter 18.2 A New Beginning in Copacabana
Chapter 18.3 Turning the Page
Chapter 19.0 Remote Work and the Roman Dream

Chapter 20 Europe – Scandinavia

Chapter 21  Ireland and Scotland – Castles, Conflicts, and Clarity

Chapter 22 Munich to Berlin – A Rollercoaster Nightmare

Chapter 23 Blue Lagoon to LALALAND

Chapter 24 A New Beginning Down Under
Chapter 24.2 Falling for Bondi
Chapter 24.3 The Moment Bondi Became Home
Chapter 24.5 A Dream Come True in Bondi
Chapter 24.6 Bondi and My Friend Martini
Chapter 24.7A Dream Come True in Bondi
Chapter 24.8 Bondi Bubble

Chapter 25 Bali, the Gili Islands, and a Visit to Bruce Lee

Chapter 26 Aloha Hawaii
Chapter 26.2  Aloha Hawaii
Chapter 26.3 The Hawaiian Awakening
Chapter 26.4 The Spirit

Chapter 27 Montana

Chapter 28 La La Land

Chapter 29 The Return to Aloha
Chapter 29.1 My Legends, Spirit Gods
Chapter 29.2 Waves of Change

Book three: I Built This Life and The Platform

Prologue – After the Clapping

Chapter 1: Clean Body, Clear Spirit

Chapter 2: The Business Is my projects 

Chapter 3: Faith Over Fear (Again and Again)

Chapter 4: London, Again

Chapter 5: Keys and Kindness

Chapter 6: A Different Kind of Love Story

Chapter 7: I Am the Mother

Chapter 8: Wealth Was Always Mine

Chapter 9: The Global Calling

Chapter 10: Media, Message, Mission

Chapter 11: Forgiving the Silence

Chapter 12: A Table for All of Us

Chapter 15: My Life Is the Proof

Epilogue – I Am Home

Book four: The Legacy Years

Prologue – This Is What I Prayed For

Chapter 1: The Day My Daughter Asked

Chapter 2: What I Teach Now

Chapter 3: The Mothers I Stand On

Chapter 4: The Business Became a Movement - Legends App

Chapter 5: The House I Prayed For

Chapter 6: My Children Will Know

Chapter 7: The Day I Spoke on Stage

Chapter 8: What Legacy Means to Me

Chapter 9: When They Read My Name

Epilogue – The Legend I Leave Behind

Foreword

There are some books that entertain you, some that inform you, and then there are those rare few that change you. DEUS. I’M is one of those rare gifts—a deeply vulnerable, poetic, and powerful journey across continents, heartbreaks, awakenings, and divine encounters.

In these pages, you will not just read a memoir. You will travel across the globe with Sara—from the gritty beauty of Los Angeles to the spiritual depths of Hawaii, the refined soul of London, the vast stillness of Montana, and the vibrant mystery of Brazil. Her story is not linear—it’s a dance between the seen and the unseen, between this world and the spiritual realms she boldly communes with. She invites you into a sacred space where healing isn't always graceful, where faith is forged in fire, and where legends—both human and divine—guide her path.

What makes DEUS.I’M remarkable is not just the story itself, but the way it’s told—with brutal honesty, poetic rhythm, and a kind of cinematic soul that makes every chapter pulse with life. Sara writes with the rawness of someone who has lived a hundred lives, and the tenderness of someone who knows what it means to lose everything and still rise.

This book is for the seeker, the survivor, the sensitive soul, and the wild spirit who dares to dream even after the world tries to break them. It’s for anyone who believes that miracles happen, that angels walk among us, and that love—real love—is always guiding us home.

Prepare yourself. This book will move you. It may shake you. And if you let it, it will awaken something ancient and powerful within you.

— A Friend, A Witness, A Fellow Believer

Preface 

When I first began writing this book, I wasn’t trying to become an author. I was simply trying to survive. This book began as a whisper—one that echoed through my heart in the quiet hours of the night. A whisper from God, from my spirit guides, from the legends who walked before me, and from the winds that carried me across oceans and continents. 

DEUS.I’M is not just a memoir. It’s a testimony of faith, grief, rebirth, and relentless dreaming. It’s about sacred healing. Each chapter came from a moment of deep surrender—on bathroom floors, watching pink sunsets, beneath moonlit skies in Germany, by the ocean in Hawaii, and walking through the streets of London with silent tears inside and faith in my heart. These words didn’t come from a place of comfort. They were born from heartbreak, spiritual awakening, divine intervention, and pure determination to keep going, about remembering who I am when everything else fell away.

From Brazil to London, from Hawaii to Hollywood, my life has been shaped by forces seen and unseen. By the voices of legends—both known and unsung. By the echoes of my grandmother’s love, my grandfather’s strength, my father’s spirit. By the music of Whitney Houston, Tupac, and other Spirits Gods. By divine whispers. By the power of aloha. By grief, by joy, and by an unwavering belief that God was always guiding me—even in the silence.

This book is a tapestry of real stories, revelations, and remembrance. It’s about losing everything and still choosing to live. It’s about hearing God through the static, through the chaos, through the music. It’s about the moments when angels show up disguised as friends, strangers, nurses, and even drag queens on Santa Monica Boulevard.

It’s also about identity—how we remember who we are through faith, culture, heartbreak, resilience, and the spiritual DNA passed down through our ancestors.

To those who find themselves in transition, who’ve ever felt displaced, disconnected, or deeply called to something greater—this is for you. If you’ve ever talked to God at 3am, found strength in a song lyric, or looked for signs in stars, numbers, or waves, then you already know—you’re not alone.

This is my love letter to the divine, to the legends, to the light within us all. Thank you for walking this journey with me. I hope you see pieces of your own strength in these pages.

I hope DEUS.I’M becomes a companion in your own transformation. And that no matter where you are in life, you feel reminded of this truth:

You are never alone. You are always guided. And your story is far from over.

With all my love,
Sara Vieira

Introduction

This is not just a book—it’s a resurrection.

DEUS. I’M was written from the ashes of heartbreak, grief, spiritual awakenings, and unimaginable resilience. It is my story, yes—but it is also the story of what happens when the soul refuses to give up. When life strips you down to nothing, and still, something divine whispers: Get up. I’m not done with you yet.

For years, I searched for belonging across continents—London, Hawaii, Brazil, Montana, Los Angeles, Australia—and within each place, I found a piece of myself. But it wasn’t until I lost everything that I began to remember who I truly was: a woman deeply connected to spirit, to music, to legacy, and to God.

I’ve had moments of intense joy and piercing pain. I’ve seen the face of grief and the light of healing. I’ve spoken to my ancestors. I’ve fainted and been held by angels. I’ve met drag queens on Santa Monica Boulevard who reminded me that love still exists. I’ve heard Whitney Houston’s voice echo like a prayer. I’ve been guided by the courage of legends—Eddie Aikau, Wayne Dyer, Princess Diana, Tupac, MLK, and even fictional heroes like Simba and Maximus. They all walked with me.

This book is a testimony. A mosaic of chapters, each carrying a memory, a truth, a miracle.

It is about surviving the waves. About hearing God’s voice in the silence. About finding light even when you think it’s all gone. It’s about learning to listen to your inner whisper, the one that tells you to try one more time.

This is not a manual. This is not a traditional memoir. It’s a collection of sacred moments—woven through music, place, faith, family, and the kind of love that doesn’t always look the way you expect.

If you’ve ever felt lost, I hope this book helps you feel found. If you’ve ever been broken, may this book remind you: you are still whole.

DEUS. I’M means God, I am—and this is my declaration. My surrender. My rising.

Welcome to the journey.

—Sara Vieira

BOOK ONE: The Awakening 

Prologue – The Voices Were Real
When Sara’s grandmother dies, a spiritual awakening begins. She hears the voices of Whitney, Tupac, and other legends who guide her through what doctors call psychosis—but she knows it is something sacred.

After my grandma passed, I didn’t just cry—I cracked open. Something in me changed. I began to hear voices. Whitney. Tupac. Diana. Bruce. Grandma. They didn’t scare me. They saved me.

The world said I was losing it. The doctors called it psychosis. But deep down, I knew—I wasn’t sick. I was waking up.

This is my story. Not a fairy tale. Not fiction. Just the truth. The truth of a woman who walked through fire, barefoot and shaking, and lived to write about it.

Chapter 1: The Death That Woke Me Up
Montana. Things did not get any better after I came back from Hawaii. It had been days since I tried to talk with my grandma—to pray with her—but my aunt would never let me. Always an excuse: "She just went to sleep," or "She’s busy now."

Then, on the night of December 2nd, 2018, my cousins gave me the news: my grandma had died.

I didn’t believe it. I thought it was a cruel joke. I wanted my world to end. I started crying and didn’t stop—for a year.

That same night, I remembered my stepfather had a gun. Bad thoughts flooded my mind: to end it all, to see my grandma again, or even to set the house on fire. I took the gun and drove to the lake. I hid it behind a rock—my daddy’s name is Rock. Pedro. 

I went back to the house and left offerings: tea from my step-grandma China, from England—Queen Elizabeth herself—for my grandma. Cookies too. Then I sat and watched Princess Diana and Whitney Houston’s funerals on YouTube. I couldn’t go to my grandma’s funeral, so I honored her in spirit.

That’s when I started researching Whitney’s death. It was clear: she was assassinated. Who overdoses in a bathtub facing down? She didn’t. She was killed. Plus why Hollywood did not cancel the event when they heard she passed away?

In the days that followed, I was obsessed. I tried finding a way to sue the bastards in Hawaii, to get my stuff back from the car rental. No response. Nothing.

I spent most of my time in the freezing garage, listening to Tupac—"Hit 'Em Up"—on repeat. Over and over again. That’s when I got his spirit. I was ready to end that Junior Mafia in Hawaii. I was furious with Hawaii.

And now, the most precious soul in my life—my grandma—was gone, and I didn’t even get to say goodbye.

“Pretenders” played in the background… I don´t remember if we said goodbye?

Things with Parker weren’t going well either, so I decided to go back to California. Maybe get my Mini Cooper. Who knows.

The spirits told me I was there when he created the “Hit 'Em Up” video. Pac and I had been friends. We used to go to clubs, listen to hip hop. I hung out with lots of boys.

All my friends smoked weed in Alaska. We vibed to music in our homes. I was losing my mind… or maybe gaining my spirit.

The spirits tell me a lot of things. I listen. I don’t always act.

Then we left.

California love plays in the background.

The day she died, the air shifted. I felt her everywhere. She became the guide. The anchor. The first voice I recognized.

Then came Whitney. Then Tupac. Diana. Grandpa. The spirits lined up like soldiers. Each one carried something I needed—strength, voice, love, rage, hope.

It wasn’t crazy. It was the Spirits.

Chapter 2.0: California Love & Hollywood Spirit

Norm said I could stay at his home in Pasadena for a while. It was a beautiful home. I got a new computer, a new iPhone, and even an ID to smoke weed. I spent most of my time driving back to West Hollywood, hanging out by the observatory or the Forest Lawn cemetery near Warner Brothers—where Walt Disney was buried and where Roosevelt rested. 

I'd park with the perfect view—no traffic, no parking signs—and blast Tupac and my LA playlist. I didn't contact any of my friends. I was grieving. Crying endlessly. I'd leave offerings like Adidas pants and fifty bucks by Roosevelt’s grave—in the trash, of course. The spirits told me stories as I walked through the cemetery: about presidents, about suffering children, about a house with scratches on the doors. I began doing offerings on a silver platter with coins and wine. Norm’s house had several classic old cars and Vegas slot machines.

Eventually, I got a job developing a weed platform. Weed had just been legalized in California. We had meetings at The Standard, Skybar, and Chateau Marmont. One night, one of them called to meet, but I was in bed, in pain like the Exorcist. I canceled. He was furious.

I drove around Mulholland Drive and Hollywood Hills, stopping at random houses. Sometimes blessing them. Sometimes angry. After all, the California fire didn’t reach Hollywood. I visited Bel Air, near my old neighborhood off Sunset in Beverly Glen.

I kept driving—listening to music, smoking, crying. Missing my grandma, Vovó Elizabeth Resende Vieira. One night, parked on King’s Road near Saddle Ranch—my old neighborhood—I saw a cop car pull up. I swear it was Eminem and Dre in disguise. The spirits had told me to go there, but I was too shy to approach.

Chapter 2.1: Vegas Visions & the Makaveli Moment

I wanted to go back to Hawaii, so I booked a ticket and waited at the Honolulu airport. Hawaiians said the spirit passes through there before leaving earth. But I returned to Norm’s house instead. I joined Equinox. I worked out. Then came Super Bowl weekend. The spirits said I could get in—but I had no ticket. So I went to Las Vegas instead.

I stayed in a few hotels, including the one where Pac was shot. I had vivid memories of being a kid, crying, trying to run toward him—held back by a huge security guard. I checked into Caesar’s Palace, the purple room. I spent days there, blowing my $6K. I shopped in the gift shop, spent $500 on alcohol, a long sleeve pajama dress, snacks, and cigarettes.

I stayed in my room, watching the fountain, and listening to music. Prince was there. My grandpa loved to gamble, but I didn’t. I kept looking at the Cosmopolitan. The Flamingo was nearby. The fountains reminded me of Hawaii—when I saw 30 whales giving birth at Three Tables. One of the most beautiful moments of my life.

At Caesar’s, I listened to the entire Makaveli album on repeat. Eventually, I went back to Pasadena.

Chapter 2.2: Only God Can Judge Me

There was a movie premiering in Hollywood: everywhere I looked it said “BREAK THE GLASS.” I took it as a sign. Something deeper. I broke my iPad, but nothing happened.

Norm and I got into an argument. I was out of smokes, washing the rental SUV while he was fixing my Mini Cooper. I slammed my bedroom door. He barged in, yelling with anger. Like the Hawaiian landlord once did. I panicked. I broke the window glass with my elbow and called 911. Firetruck. Police. They took me to the hospital, but the line was too long. So I walked back—blocks and blocks, past midnight.

When I reached Norm’s house, all my stuff was in the yard. As I stood there confused, six cop cars pulled up with lights flashing. “FREEZE!” One officer recognized me. She said Norm didn’t want me there anymore. I had to leave.

Chapter 2.3: God Sends Queens Too

I wandered all night looking for the police station—phone dead, scared. I finally reached one, then another. When I passed his neighbor’s house, she didn’t answer. I slept behind a rock near Eaton Park—where the California fires burned. I asked the snakes to stay away.

The next day, I walked more. Eventually, Norm dropped my things at the station and laughed as he drove off. He kept my Mini Cooper and new laptop. I took what I could.

I told the Uber driver to drop me in West Hollywood—my home for 11 years. I unloaded everything next to the dumpster behind my old salon near the 7-Eleven. My taekwondo medals. Disney gifts for future kids. I packed what I could into my black Longchamp and left the rest.

Then an angel appeared.

A fabulous queen walked with me through the alley. She invited me to Starbucks with her friends. Buff, beautiful souls with Prada bags and Whole Foods treats. We ate together. They invited me to a party, but I wasn’t ready. I went to Equinox. Sat in the sauna until midnight. Then wandered through hotel lobbies, bathrooms, until sunrise. Next day—back at the gym. Yoga. Sauna. Hollywood views.

Chapter 2.3: From Sunset to Spirit

Then a miracle. Jaron—my Jewish friend from London—called. He was in town, staying at The Standard. He told me to meet him at the hotel, to rest, eat, smoke, and be safe.

He had meetings, but left me the room. I wandered the hotel. There was a party upstairs. I met new friends. Smoked. Laughed. One had an orange tracksuit. At the door, we talked about God and Allah. I didn’t wake Jaron—he was exhausted.

The next morning, he left but paid for another night. I had brunch. Champagne. Then I checked out and headed to the airport.

I called my best friend Woodrie. I asked her to buy me a ticket to Hawaii. She hesitated—remembering what had happened before. But my grandma’s spirit was there.

So I flew back.

To Honolulu.

To spirit.

To home.

I lived in a few places in LA—a big white house in Hollywood, kings road. I was surrounded by stars. I’d see Drew Barrymore at the gym, Doctor Dre at Equinox, Cameron Dias at spin bike. I used to exchange a few words with Will.am.I at the gym too. I worked for Disney twice, CBS, Dreamworks, Fox Sports, NBC Universal, Sony Pictures, ABC and Warner Media. I used to build websites, flash and mobile apps. I even tried to create the first parking app for LA.

I love my city of angels. I smoked my Capri cigarettes in between dreams. My Mini Cooper felt like freedom. LA had always welcomed me back, even after everything.

Chapter 3: Hawaii - Smoke, Surf, Spirits

I arrived at the Honolulu airport with only enough cash for a bus ride. The prepaid credit cards I had loaded at Walmart and Target didn’t work. My goal was simple: visit my old neighbors and find a job. But when I got there, they had all moved away.

So I went to Waimea Bay, where I used to volunteer, thinking maybe I could rest there for the night. But the peacock screamed when it saw me and security came—not to talk, but to beat me up. I lost it, dropped my Longchamp bag with everything inside, and jumped over a wall like a dude—both legs up. I ran toward the heiau cemetery, a place I knew Hawaiians feared at night.

I saw police lights and asked the spirits for permission to stay. There was a chair by the statues, and I sat in it. At 3 a.m., the chair tipped over. I felt like a fugitive, running through Waimea Valley. By morning, I hid near a white waterfall. A chill, laid-back security guard I used to know found me, gave me my bag back, and offered a ride. They didn’t press charges because I had worked there before.

Chapter 3.1: Banksy, Spirit Formations & Stormy Shores

I had no place to stay. I wandered the beaches at night. I tried hiding at the old farmhouse where I once worked, but they found me. One stormy night, the waves were too big to walk by the shore. I grabbed a rope and climbed the stairs of an empty airbnb house. The back door was open. I was freezing. So I showered, washed my clothes, and cooked the leftover pasta and popcorn. I left offerings for the army of soldier spirits I'd seen in the water, near Honolulu, by the beach. The way they moved—patterns, formations—reminded me of Pearl Harbor and Vietnam. I saw hundreds of tanks driving by Sunset Blvd on the North Shore and sometimes threw flowers at them like Banksy.

Chapter 3.2: Lord, This Isn’t How I Die

Homes in Hawaii were like Malibu—four or five levels high. I once tried living in a tree house, but the police told me to head to Haleiwa. I went. On one ride, the bus broke down. I left when the spirits said people threatened to set it on fire. Army kids fed me hot dogs. They were training on the island but had the day off.

That’s when I learned about microchipping people. Claudia—a wild Brazilian blonde surfer—told me. She had a business sending girls to Miami. She said even Puff Daddy had issues with prostitutes there. Claudia smoked weed daily. She had skinny legs, a great swimmer’s body, lots of botox, and deep beauty underneath. She reminded me of my aunt.

Eventually, I smoked weed every day too. I never bought it—just smoked with people. Sometimes it had a weird taste. Maybe crack. I don’t know. I was always a lightweight. The hardest part of Hawaii was not having a home. I hunted for food, sometimes picking papayas or oranges. Other days, I raided fridges or pantries for enough food for a night or two.

My cousin made a Facebook post with ten photos of me. Small town gossip exploded. That’s when people started trying to catch me. One Irish-Hawaiian kid threw a rock at my knee. The police did nothing—his dad owned shops at Shark’s Cove.

Another time, a surfer and his pregnant girlfriend choked me nearly to death after I yelled at him for disturbing the heiau. He tackled me to the floor and started choking me. I looked up at the sky and said, "Lord, this isn’t how I die." A car full of tourists stopped and called 911. He had grabbed a sacred pineapple from the offering table and sliced it with a knife. They took my bag—I had no money for three weeks.

One guy who looked like Tupac showed up, gave me a gold chain, bought me food, and walked with me through Honolulu. Another man gave me a ride, but his girlfriend later stole my iPhone.

Chapter 3.3: When You Believe in Angels

I lived in Hawaii for three years. The first year, I stayed at Foo’s Backpackers until a staff member entered my room uninvited. I called the police, but the owner Foo, kicked me out during high season.

I found another hostel. Then I worked at a farm in Pupukea, which sat on top of a Hawaiian heiau cemetery—where the god Ku once ate people. Menehunes still marched at night. The farmer there carried a huge knife and tried to scare me. Eventually, I escaped. Another couple from New York had a breakdown too. The land was sacred. The sunsets were heavenly.

I was broke, so I prayed. The spirits said, “Your Father owns all of this.” Like Pride Rock in The Lion King. I listened nonstop to Beyoncé’s Freedom Live and Whitney Houston’s When You Believe from Prince of Egypt.

Then I got a freelance gig. I met Bob, a neighbor with a spare room. He worked for the World Surf League (WSL). He got me a job too. I stayed at the surf house, surrounded by famous surfers. Pipeline. Pro competitions. Spiritual signs. Until the local clan—Dahui—and others wanted me gone. The spirits had started telling me the truth about North Shore’s hidden killers, and they didn’t like it.Plus I was innovating creating a new app and brand for hawaii.

Chapter 3.4: Queens, Legends & the 9 Lives I Lived

I met an old Hawaiian woman—104 years old—who walked the beach daily collecting coral. She let me into her home and played Hawaiian music. Her husband was a military man. Her daughter was mean. She owned half the neighborhood on Sunset beach.

I heard helicopters constantly—before Kobe’s death. I always believed they protected me. I even took a helicopter ride over Waimea Bay once, back when I lived in Australia.

Kobe was a legend. Straight from high school to the NBA. I feel his spirit constantly pushing me forward to keep going.

I died in Hawaii—almost. Strangled by a surfer. Almost beaten with wood, a rock, a shotgun. In a shark-infested fishing boat. Poisoned with chocolate monkey mushrooms - It was like a Pirates of the Caribbean dinner party. Grandma and Grandpa were with me. A seizure. I saw the white light when I was unconscious and came back, resurrected over and over.

I named two black cats Tupac and Biggie. They lived at Foo Backpackers too.These spiritual cats were part of the energy of that place. 

Chapter 3.5: Judged by Spirit, Protected by Legends
One night I saw countless shooting stars while sitting on the beach. I started to believe my grandma was with me. I’d giggle alone and stay up all night counting stars. Sometimes I’d sit in the lifeguard tower, leave candles, and pour other offerings.

Some Brazilians told me to go to church—said the pastor would help. But that’s when I got arrested again. This time, I stayed in jail for two months.

Then they took me to Queen Elizabeth II Hospital. I was scared—but it turned out beautiful. I connected with my grandma. I stayed eight months between that and another hospital. I read the entire Bible. I cried with the rain. One woman reminded me of Whitney—skinny, noisy. She said God let her go in and out of the Kingdom of heaven.

I faced many charges—but they all got dropped. One judge reminded me of my grandpa. We agreed: I wouldn’t come back to the island for five years, and the case was dismissed. That case would have meant ten years.

All I did was hide in a house from a guy who followed me and asked for oral sex. I locked myself in a bathroom and lit candles. The bathroom was fabulous, but the door stuck. The maid found me the next morning. I never stole anything. I just needed safety.

A man at Stairway to Heaven told me to make a deal with the judge. The owners never showed, so it worked. I didn’t steal—just bathed, protected myself.

Once I threw a flip-flop at a car and got a “terrorist” charge. Dropped. I went into houses for food or to nap. I swapped towels. Used the jacuzzi when no one was there. Sat under trees. Watched whales.

A man tried to shoot me. Another threatened me with a wooden stick. Someone let out dogs on me, but they wagged their tails when they got closer.A pit bull came charging. I spun my Longchamp like a weapon until the owner called it off. 

At JFK Kennedy Airbnb, I stayed in a detached laundry room. I ate hotdogs and watermelon, stared at the stars, and talked to Spirits. Helicopters circled. I felt watched—but not alone. 

I even spit on a cop—like Tupac did. Another time, I kicked my jail open before court. I had so many mugshots, each with a new hairdo.

When the Magnum PI helicopters flew overhead. Sometimes I thought they knew where I was. On the way to court, one flew right above me. It gave me hope.

 I never took meds in those psych wards—not for six months. I was scared to gain some weight, because the food was delicious.

Eventually, I left Hawaii.I left the USA. I flew to Brazil.

I knew I couldn’t stay in Hawaii. But I also knew I had found something sacred there. A connection beyond death. A court of spirits who would follow me forever.

Chapter 4.0: The Gods Sent COVID

COVID started a week after I got back. The spirits sent it. 

In my hometown, I stayed with different family members until I moved into my grandparent’s old home—the one where they raised their kids. I sat in that room for days, hungry, and no one cared. I broke my computer and carried all my donated things to the Bonfim cemetery.

I had 20 bucks for the week. I’d buy a cheap drink, Top Ramen, and cigarettes. Then go hungry for days. One day I lost it and threw stuff off the top of the fridge. My uncle called the cops. 911 SAMU came and took me to the psych hospital. I didn’t mind—they had food and cigarettes. I stayed for a week.

My mother was the only one who could get me out. She was smiling when she showed up. I hated seeing her. As soon as I was released, I took a bus to Rio de Janeiro.

Chapter 4.1: Spirits Sent Me to Rocinha

Spirits wanted me to go to Rocinha. But the cab dropped me at a completely different slum. I chilled at a bar until some folks rented a room to me. I got electrocuted once in the shower, badly. I survived. I walked down the wrong alley and got beat up. Later, a group of Paulistas with sticks came toward me, but I screamed in English and they let me go.

I stood behind a cop and waited. When I returned to my flat, a guy and his kid—my friend—were there. The kid told me to be quiet. The man started quoting the Bible, and I joined him. Somehow, he didn’t shoot me. I walked all night on the streets and beaches of Rio.

The next day, I looked for a hospital. COVID was still on, but nobody wore masks. I found one—Pinel. I told them everything. They said I’d be in observation for a few days. But they locked a thick door behind me, gave me forced meds, and I stayed there from August to December.

Chapter 4.2:  Friends, Facção, and Blessings

The only way out was family. But I had no one in Rio. Then I met Brenda from Rocinha. She said I could rent a room up there. They allowed smoking in the Pinel hospital. I met people from the facção—real gangsters. I made friends. One guy gave me weed. My doctor was hot—one of the hottest Brazilians ever.

I befriended a cleaner who helped me contact my old friends in the U.S.—Woodrie and Jaron. Brenda was a Gemini like me. She had tried to take her life many times. Her sister dated a big guy from Rocinha. They helped me look for housing.

Eventually, I was released to a CAPS in Rocinha. I met Brenda’s mom Silvia, an angel. She invited me for Christmas dinner and a BBQ. Her husband was amazing. They let me care for her Alzheimer’s mom and stay at their home for three months. Silvia cooked me lunch, made breakfast. I was skinny again, but my belly started growing weirdly.

Chapter 4.3: Resurrected: Three Surgeries, One Miracle & the Will to Begin Again

A doctor said I had cancer—but later I found out I didn’t. Or maybe I was healed. My belly grew so much that I needed urgent surgery. They took out 8 liters of water and my uterus and ovaries without my consent. I kept vomiting and my stitches opened. After three weeks of diarrhea and sickness, they performed another surgery.

I stayed in the hospital for three months to recover. I spent my 41st birthday there. I knew all the nurses. They bought me cake and sang happy birthday. My aunts came later too.

Eventually, it was time to return to my hometown. My cousin used miles to buy my ticket. I spent 2 years with a hernia and in and out of hospitals with an open wound, waiting for a third surgery. I quit smoking. I thought my life was over in 2022. I didn’t even think about spirits—I was just broken. But I didn’t complain and I did not give up either.

I got my vision board back up. My friends Beejay, Woodrie her parents let me borrow money so I could buy a new laptop.  I got a UX design job. Two months later, I moved to Blumenau in 2023, where my cousin lived. I found the best hernia doctors and booked my surgery for January, 2024. I paid the surgery in cash, actually it was double the price.

I had a heart attack after surgery. 3 more minutes I would've had brain damage. But they saved me. It was on a Saturday. By Monday, I was working again. I never told my boss.

It took three months to recover. I felt like a new person. The surgery that I waited almost 3 years for was a success and I was ready to start living life again. Then I booked my ticket to London.

Chapter 5: London - Living Like a Princess

Without telling my family, I moved to London and lived like a princess for six months. I rented a fabulous room in Kensington, which felt like a castle. I paid £1,600 a month in rent—but at the time, it was all worth it. I had my own maid, and my life felt peaceful and magical. I had let go of all the spirit stories and was just living a normal, comfortable life.

The moment I stepped onto the British Airways flight, I knew I was heading home. When they offered me a cup of tea with milk, it wasn’t just a drink—it was a sign. It meant I was back. I worried London might not feel the same, but it did. The skyline had evolved, but its essence hadn’t changed. London is still London. Diverse, full of history and life. Like Paddington said, “Everyone in London is different. That’s why everyone fits in.”

Chapter 5.2: Rediscovering the City

After dropping my bags, I ran to Oxford Street and Piccadilly. The buildings, the buzz—all so familiar. I stopped at Mango, where I used to shop before, and it felt like time hadn’t passed. Pret, Tesco, Boots—even those felt like home. Just being back in those streets made me smile.

I booked an Airbnb in Fulham for a few weeks, but I was exploring. Chelsea, Marylebone, Oxford, Angel—I saw them all. Then someone told me, "You want to live where locals brunch," and I found Kensington. Peaceful, elegant, and close to everything. Eventually I found a flat that looked like a mini palace. High ceilings, chandeliers, fireplaces. It was a dream.

Every time I opened Google Maps, it showed me this hidden church. One Sunday I finally went in. I thought mass was at 9, but it was 11, so I sat quietly for a while. It was beautiful. People were kind. I joined the Thursday group. They had wine tastings, candle-making, even a gala. That church became my family. It connected me back to my grandma.

Tams was the most fabulous English lady. We met at church. She had been a model and had clothes from her mother and grandmother. I tried on gowns from her collection. She told me, “This is a cocktail dress, darling.” She had a royal accent, full of jokes. We stayed up late talking, watched the full moon, and laughed for hours. She took me to the Royal Albert Hall. The Proms. We drank tea, shopped at M&S. Her presence was a gift.

Chapter 5.3: Dating Again

I hadn’t kissed anyone since Hawaii—five years. But I looked 30 in my 40s. English men thought my dating profile was fake. I went on dates daily. Notting Hill was my favorite. I dated a stylish footballer, funny and loud. He showed me a photo with Beckham. We went to a casino. He won 600 pounds. Then there was Tom—picnics, Norfolk visits, but he smoked and never paid for dinner. Then Mark, the Irish guy. Clean house, nice dinners, but something felt off. Then the footballer from Notting Hill again. Under a full moon, he made me laugh. I remembered why I loved English men.

Gabby was Aussie, living in London. We clicked instantly. Walks in Richmond Park, bubbles, dinners. Simon was my World Cup buddy. We cheered for Brazil and England. He gave me local tips. Pippa worked at the church and took me to the Proms. She led the Thursday group, invited me to church events, weekend getaways, and was simply lovely. These friends made London feel whole.

I went on so many dates in London. I met this one English guy who had the accent, the footballer’s body, and that sarcastic wit I love. We almost got engaged. He wanted me to stay and marry him, but his apartment was a disaster. It was messy and full of bad energy—it reminded me too much of my mom’s house. I realized I would have to live with that for the rest of my life, I knew I couldn’t do it. I called the engagement off. He was furious, but my peace came first.

Chapter 5.5: Kensington Routine
Every day, I went to the same supermarket, walked the same Kensington streets, and attended the same church. At Christ Church, I met this fascinating woman who reminded me of both my grandma and Princess Diana. She was an ex-model, tall and blonde, and she became my guide to the posh parts of London. She showed me where the queen used to shop, introduced me to Harrods, and made me fall deeper in love with the elegance and charm of London.

Chapter 5.6: The Lights Stayed On, But I Had to Leave

Six months later, I had to leave. My visa was up. I didn’t want to go. The Christmas lights were already on. All I wanted for Christmas was to stay in London. I asked my cousin if I could stay with her in Spain—she said no. My other cousin said I wasn’t welcome, even if I paid rent. I tried visiting my German friend of 20 years, but she flaked on me too. After all that, I booked an Airbnb three hours from Hanover and went alone. It was peaceful, but my heart was broken. My original plan was to stay in London to get my visa and bring bruninho to live with me, but my job contract ended 2 weeks after i landed in london, even though i tried to get another job and i knew i would eventually come back to the city i love.

Chapter 6: Germany - Lessons Across Continents
As I look back on my journey—from LA to Hawaii, Australia to Brazil, and finally to London—I see how every step was part of a greater plan. Each place I’ve lived, each challenge I’ve faced, and each dream I’ve chased has led me to this moment. The struggles, the joys, and even the heartbreaks were all necessary. They shaped not just my life, but my spirit, and taught me lessons I carry forward with pride.

Hawaii taught me resilience—how to navigate storms, both literal and emotional, and find peace in the process. LA showed me the importance of dreaming big and working hard, even when the odds seem impossible. Australia was a leap of faith, a reminder that reinvention is powerful and that stepping into the unknown is where growth begins. Brazil, my roots, grounded me and reminded me of my strength, even as I realized I had outgrown it. It honored where I’ve come from, but also showed me the power of moving forward.
And then there’s London. My constant. My heart. The place where my dreams felt tangible and my soul felt at home. London taught me that it’s never too late to rewrite your story. It reminded me that happiness isn’t tied to a timeline and that courage means taking risks, even when the future is unclear. London reintroduced me to myself and gave me a year I’ll treasure forever.

But my journey doesn’t end here. I’ve learned that life is not about existing—it’s about living. It’s about pursuing what lights you up, what scares you, and what makes you whole. It’s about embracing every part of your journey—the heartbreaks, the triumphs, and everything in between. Life doesn’t have one path or one timeline, and it’s never too late to start again. Some people build their lives in their 20s or 30s, but others—like me—discover their purpose and joy later. The important thing is to keep moving forward, to keep dreaming, and to stay grateful.

This is just the beginning. I see myself in the life I’m building—a life filled with love, family, and purpose. I see a thriving business that inspires others, a family that grounds me, and a legacy that reminds me it was all worth it. I dream of homes in London, LA, and Australia, where I can watch my children grow up surrounded by love and adventure. I dream of continuing to work hard, staying healthy, and living fully, because life is too short not to.
The world has taught me so much. From the turquoise waters of Hawaii to the vibrant streets of London, every place has left its mark on me. And while this chapter may be closing, it’s far from the end. It’s a promise—to myself, to my dreams, and to the life I’m still creating.
This isn’t goodbye—it’s see you later. The best is yet to come.

Chapter 6.1: A Blessing in Disguise
Leaving London was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. I wasn’t ready to leave the city that felt like home, but my journey was calling me elsewhere. Instead of heading straight to Brazil, I decided to visit a friend in Germany—a trip I thought would be simple but turned into something far more unexpected.

From the start, it was clear that things weren’t going as planned. My friend seemed distant, and it felt like she didn’t really want me to visit. After arriving at the wrong airport in Hamburg, I took a train to Hanover, only to realize all the hotels were booked. With no other options, I rented an Airbnb three hours away. It took three trains and two trams to reach the place, and by the time I arrived—exhausted and carrying a heavy bag—it felt like I’d been traveling forever. The trip from 10 p.m. on Monday to 10 a.m. on Tuesday pushed me to my limits. But when I finally arrived, I found myself in a beautiful German cottage, surrounded by peace and quiet.

At first, it felt like a series of misfortunes, but quickly, the cottage became a blessing in disguise. The rain kept me inside most of the time, giving me space to rest, reflect, and enjoy simple pleasures like German bread, meats, chocolate, and tea. One evening, as the rain cleared, a stunning pink sunset lit up the sky. It reminded me of my grandma, whose memory is tied to every pink sunset I see. Later that night, the full moon rose, visible through the skylights, and I felt an immediate connection to my grandpa. The halo and rainbow around the moon felt like a divine message, like he was saying, You’ve got this.

Grandpa has always been such a significant figure in my life. We lived together, and I spent countless hours by his side. Every day, he cooked and cleaned, and by noon, lunch was always ready. He owned a bar and restaurant, where I’d help out sometimes. After closing the bar, he’d gather with his brothers and friends to play cards. I loved being part of those moments, running errands for them, fetching beers or water, and earning small tips from Grandpa. He’d always joke, “If you fall asleep, you need to go home,” but I never did. I stayed awake, wanting to soak in every moment with him.

Even as a little kid, I’d sneak out of bed to join him late at night, sitting in the living room while he watched TV. My mom would visit and insist I go to bed, but I’d wait until she fell asleep, tiptoe back out, and sit with Grandpa. He’d give me a knowing look and say, “Hmm, if your mother sees you, you’re in trouble,” but he never told me to leave. We’d sit together watching football, Ayrton Senna racing, or boxing—whatever was on. Those moments made me feel so connected to him, and the full moon in Germany brought all those memories rushing back.

But this trip wasn’t just about reconnecting with Grandpa's memory. It also made me reflect on other relationships in my life. I’d thought about going to Barcelona to spend Christmas with one of my cousin. She’s someone I’ve always loved and wanted to support. Everything I do—my success, my dreams—has always been with the hope of helping her, Bruno, and the rest of my family. But when I reached out, her response threw me off. She quickly said, “I just moved to a new place with my dogs. I don’t think that’s a good idea.” It wasn’t isolating—I knew I had other options—but it was disappointing. It felt like I was always trying to give, but the effort wasn’t reciprocated. It reminded me of how we’ve grown apart, and that realization stung.

The same feelings arose with my cousin Bruno. After I left London, he wasn’t welcoming when I reached out. He told me his mother, my aunt, didn’t want me around for Christmas or staying with them, even though I’d offered to help with rent while I waited for my visa to return to London. His response hurt, especially after living with him for a year, but it also gave me clarity. It’s hard to keep trying when it feels like the effort is one-sided. That’s why the quiet moments in the cottage, under the full moon, were so healing. They reminded me that I have a family in spirit—Grumpa, grandma, daddy, all my legends and God—guiding me and watching over me.

As the week unfolded, I realized this time in Germany wasn’t a detour; it was a reset. It gave me space to reflect, recharge, and prepare for what’s next. In two weeks, I don’t know exactly where I’ll be. Next week, I’ll be in my hometown, staying near grandma’s favorite church and tying up loose ends. After that, I’ll head to Rio’s Búzios, where I’ve booked an Airbnb by the beach. It’s summer in Brazil, so there’s warmth and sunshine waiting for me. But beyond that, it’s the great unknown.

It’s exciting and a little daunting, like starting over. I’ll have to find a new place to live, build routines, and figure out what’s next, just like I did when I first arrived in London. But this time, I know I’m not alone. The full moon reminded me of that. I feel Grandpa’s voice saying, You’ve got this. I feel grandma’s love in every pink sunset. I feel daddy and God guiding my steps. This is just another chapter—one that will bring me closer to my dreams.
I’ll lay low for now. My family doesn’t need to know everything. I don’t want them to think I’ve failed by coming back to Brazil because I haven’t. London was just the beginning. It showed me where I’m meant to be, and once my visa comes through, I’ll return for good. For now, I’m focusing on the present: succeeding in my work, meeting the right people, and finding a beautiful place by the beach. This isn’t the end of my story—it’s just the next adventure.

Chapter 7: Echoes of Búzios

Returning to Búzios felt like stepping into a dream. The loft I found overlooked the endless beach, where sunrises painted the sky with hues of pink and orange, and sunsets whispered promises of calm. The moon and stars watched over me, and the songs of birds filled the air. In those moments, everything seemed perfect.

But as days passed, a strange sensitivity began to overwhelm me. People's energies started to weigh heavily on my body, and I found myself isolating in the loft, seeking solace from the intensifying presence of spirits. It wasn't long before I felt an inexplicable burning sensation in my leg, despite no one being around.

The experience grew more intense, and I found myself hearing voices and visions that seemed to pull me into a world of confusion. They spoke of fantastical origins, of connections to royalty and legends, and even of being monitored from afar. It was overwhelming, leading me to retreat further into solitude, seeking refuge from the chaos of these voices.

One night, as I lay on the ground, feeling the weight of it all, I reached out to the energies around me, inviting the positive and nurturing forces to cleanse my spirit. In that moment of vulnerability, I saw a shooting star streak across the sky, and from the trees, an angel with immense wings appeared. Tears of joy streamed down my face as I felt the comforting presence of my grandpa's spirit. It was a moment of profound connection, reminding me that even in the midst of chaos, there is always light and love.

Through this journey, I learned that the spirits are indeed present, but it’s essential to be mindful of what you allow into your life. It taught me to discern the energies I embrace and to trust in the strength within me. As I continue forward, I carry these lessons with me, embracing the light and love that guide my path.

Chapter 7.1: The Circle and the Spirits

After the angel appeared and I felt my grandfather’s spirit so clearly, something shifted. It was as if the spirit world had opened a door, and suddenly I was no longer just a visitor in Búzios—I was being watched, guided, and interrogated. Thoughts began flooding my mind, uninvited but relentless.

They weren’t ordinary thoughts. They felt inserted—foreign yet familiar. One moment they were pushing me to finish the book I’d been talking about for nine years. The next, they whispered strange narratives: that I was part UFO, that the U.S. was monitoring me, that I had royal lineage and had been sent by the Queen herself. They told me my family had betrayed me, sold me, killed my grandparents to keep secrets hidden. The stories were wild, dark, and otherworldly. But I didn’t act on them. I just listened. Quietly. Like I was under spiritual interrogation.

It was overwhelming. My body ached from the intensity of energy around me—I could feel it in my bones. People’s energies became unbearable, like their emotions were pouring directly into my skin. I couldn’t sleep. I was exhausted, but wide awake in every sense.

One night, I laid down on the floor of the loft, the one with the endless view of the sea, and created a circle around myself. Just like in Practical Magic. I called in every woman I knew—friends, mentors, ancestors—one by one. I pictured them surrounding me with light and protection. I let my grandfather into the circle too. I needed his strength, his love. I didn’t know how to separate good energy from bad. I just knew I needed help cleansing my body, my mind, my spirit.

It was one of the most intense spiritual moments of my life. A collision between truth and imagination, between what I knew and what I’d never dared to believe. But through all of it, one message came through the clearest: Finish the book.


Chapter 7.4: Whispers from the mountains

After the circle, I reached out to the mountain’s strength and the spirits in the trees, just like I had done in Hawaii. The connection felt alive, like the land itself was speaking through me. Suddenly, thoughts flooded my mind—visions I had to write down. Like Moses recording God’s warnings, I scribbled about pests overrunning the earth, fish spoiling in the waters, and dark times ahead. The spirits spoke of a second wave—COVID 2.0—and a massive earthquake shaking the world.

The messages weren’t only warnings; they carried strange promises too. The spirits said Brazil would win the next two World Cups. They told me fifty from the gangs would protect me, an unexpected alliance in the spirit world. Music was part of this spiritual current. I heard Biggie’s voice in a song, clear as day, marking the alignment of the stars. But I quickly learned I couldn’t blend the energies of Tupac and Biggie—they clashed like fire and ice. So, I made a pact to listen only to Tupac, Machiavelli, and certain chosen spirits. Their energy felt right—focused, protective, and powerful.

Then came a terrifying moment. A kid appeared, full of bad spirits, yelling at me. Panic rose as I tried calling 911—my usual instinct—but I was in Brazil, lost in a system I didn’t know. The police never came. I had to retreat to a corner, waiting, feeling the dark energy pressing in. It was the loneliest, scariest moment, but I refused to let it consume me.

I called on all the spirits I’d ever known—from Hawaii’s mountains, Bali’s forests, and every sacred place I’d touched—to protect me. I poured out offerings, spending over two thousand dollars on bottles of alcohol, giving them back to the earth and to the hidden army spirits I could see in the forest—ghostly green figures standing guard. UFOs appeared too, flickering between invisibility and sharp clarity, like they were showing themselves just for me. It felt like I was living in a waking dream, in a bubble.

The experience was terrifying and surreal. The dark prophecies I wrote about death, cleansing, and destruction weighed heavily on me. Yet, through it all, I felt the power and love of my grandparents, the ancient energy of the trees, the mana of the islands, and the strength of the mountains. Writing these visions made the burden feel heavier, but it also connected me deeply to something greater—a divine mission I could not ignore.

Chapter 7.5: When Paradise Burns Elsewhere – California Fires

While I was in Búzios, the news of the California fires broke my heart. Watching the flames consume neighborhoods I once called home felt surreal—like a nightmare unfolding far away. I remembered driving around L.A. after my grandma passed, wandering through Weho and Hollywood, places that somehow escaped the fire’s reach. It felt like those streets were blessed, watched over by something greater. I was grateful the Hollywood sign stood tall, a beacon of hope amid the darkness.

But seeing so many lose everything brought back a deep, familiar ache. Though I never lost my belongings to fire, I’ve faced my own kind of loss—things stolen, lost, or taken away by forces I now believe to be spiritual. I’ve had to rebuild from scratch multiple times—in Hawaii, Montana, L.A., Brazil, London—always carrying little more than a carry-on bag Longchamp and a heart full of hope. Watching families evacuated with 10 minutes to grab their belongings reminded me of that resilience.

I even reached out to Norm, despite our painful past. His home on Eaton was in the fire’s path, and I couldn’t help but wonder if karma or the spiritual world was at play—how life comes full circle. He never answered, but knowing he had to flee so quickly made me reflect on how fragile everything is.

Through it all, I held onto hope—for L.A., for its people, and for the spirit that survives through the fire.

Chapter 7.6 From Spirits to Freedom

The visions kept coming, and I began donating everything I owned—giving things away, throwing stuff out, clearing my life like a cleansing fire. But then, chaos followed. The owner of the loft saw me tossing glasses and bottles in the forest and on the rooftop and called the police. When they arrived, they took me to a mental hospital. I was scared to take pills against my will and I was mad, but somehow I managed to get out without being forced on medication.

Back at the loft, I packed my bags and left behind the thousands of dollars’ worth of liquor I’d bought for the spirits. I headed straight to the airport. But there, the spirits warned me of danger—a shooting was about to happen, just like the JFK assassination, with two shooters and no warning of when they’d strike. For hours, I sat frozen, waiting.

Then came the first shot. A bus shielded me from harm. The second shooter appeared, but an Aussie-Hawaiian-American intervened, stopping the attack and saving me.

Afterward, I climbed to the airport rooftop to watch the sunset. The spirits told me all the souls who had hurt me would be burned away in a great oven. I saw a strange, straight rainbow shooting from the building—pure souls rising back to the sky.

Then, suddenly, pain struck me—I was paralyzed from the waist down. Security called firefighters, who arrived quickly. They called it a mental emergency. A firefighter helped me into a wheelchair and took me inside. Miraculously, I soon regained movement, but for a time, I felt held down by the spirits—possessed, almost.

I missed my flight. At the airport, dragons, Bruce Lee spirits, and strong legendary fathers appeared, lending me their strength against the overwhelming dark energy I faced. I stayed in a strange hotel nearby.

The next day, I missed my flight to London. Tickets were sold out. I bought two bags full of gifts, hoping to see my old church friends and familiar faces. Instead, I bought a ticket to Rome and left Rio behind.

When I later told a friend about all this, he said something that stayed with me: I had bought my freedom. The spirits, he explained, are ancient forces that demand respect and exchange. The alcohol I poured out—the thousands of dollars’ worth of offerings—was more than just a ritual. It was a payment, a sacred transaction with the spiritual world.

By giving these offerings, I wasn’t just asking for protection; I was honoring the spirits, acknowledging their power, and making a pact. It was like I had entered into a contract with unseen forces, and in return, they lifted their hold on me. The weight that had pressed down—the paralysis, the dark energy—was released. The spirits accepted my gift, and with that, they granted me a kind of freedom I hadn’t felt in a long time.

This exchange wasn’t just about survival. It was about respect, balance, and recognizing the delicate dance between the human world and the spiritual realm. I realized that sometimes, freedom comes with a price—not a price paid in money alone, but in humility, trust, and honoring what’s beyond our understanding.

Chapter 8: Rome - Gladiators, Kings, and a One-Way Ticket

I went to Rome before returning to England, but the spirits didn’t allow me to stay there at all. Not even for a day.

I booked three hotels. I didn’t stay in a single one. Something always went wrong. I felt pushed out of the city. I’m still trying to get Booking.com to refund me because I never stayed at any of them. Rome wasn’t for me. The spirits made that clear.

Still, I saw the Colosseum. That iconic monument where the gladiators once fought. I walked by, feeling the energy, remembering scenes from the movies. It felt surreal. I bought a box of Vogue cigarettes—something I thought I’d take with me from Búzios to Rome, but even the ashes didn’t belong there. They were meant for somewhere else. Maybe London. Maybe beyond.

I tried calling the police. Not because I was in danger, but because I needed help. Directions. Guidance. Anything. But no one helped. One officer finally gave me instructions on how to get to the airport. That was the only help I got.

So I booked the next flight out. I didn’t belong in Rome. The city didn’t welcome me, and I didn’t want to force it.

And yet, on that flight—I met some kings.

They were there, in the same plane. They knew something. One of them looked me in the eye and said, “We will see you again soon.” There was this quiet knowing between us. That we had all been part of something bigger. Something royal. Something spiritual.

The steward—he was fabulous. He had the most divine English accent and served like royalty himself. It felt like he knew the Queen. Like she had trained him personally. He changed my seat to make me feel more comfortable. That change saved me. Maybe it saved the entire flight.

Because inside that plane, something was off. There were people aboard who didn’t have good intentions. The steward knew. The energy was heavy. But he handled it with grace. With style. He made me feel safe. Protected. Like a queen on her way back to her kingdom.

Before we landed, I looked beside me. Someone sitting close—someone who felt like royalty too—had tears in their eyes. It wasn’t sadness. It was something deeper. Like a soul remembering its mission.

Rome didn’t let me stay. But the journey through it reminded me that even when the path is blocked, the universe still protects and redirects. I was going back to London. Back to my city. Back to where I belonged.

And I never looked back.

Chapter 9:London - Frozen in the Kingdom
Stepping off the plane in London, I was hit not just by the cold air but by a wave of memories and spirits that seemed to follow me back. The city felt alive with mystery and unseen energy.

I arrived in London in March, expecting a gentle spring, but the city greeted me with a cold so sharp it cut through my layers. The sun shone bright, but the chill wrapped itself around me like a heavy cloak, especially at night. Stepping out of the airport, the blast of warm air from the doors felt like heaven. As I stood by the airport doors, soaking in the warm blast of heat, the spirits whispered that the Queen had returned—not in flesh, but as the sun itself, shining over London’s skies. The light wasn’t just warmth; it was power, presence, and a kind of royal fire.

I pulled out my phone and played The Prodigy’s “Firestarter.” The opening screamed, “I’m the trouble starter, punkin’ instigator,” the beat pulsing like the city’s heartbeat beneath the sun’s glow. Keith Flint’s spirit was with us too—he had passed away shortly after my grandma, crossing over to help balance the spiritual world between good and evil. That’s why I played the song, feeling his energy alongside the Queen’s light.

There’s something powerful about the timing of these departures. My grandma passed away, and soon after, legends like Keith Flint and Queen Elizabeth II followed—not just by chance, but as part of a greater spiritual balance. They crossed over to the other side to help tip the scales between good and evil in the unseen world.

The Queen’s passing in 2022 mirrored my grandma’s in eerie ways—the same quiet strength, the same peaceful exit. It felt like their spirits were linked, working together beyond this life. Keith Flint, too, stepped into that realm just after my grandma, becoming a guardian of sorts for the spiritual battle unfolding.

These spirits—royalty, rebels, and beloved family—are part of a larger cosmic dance. Their journeys remind us that death isn’t an end but a transition, a calling to continue the fight on a different plane. They walk alongside us, guiding the balance between light and shadow, helping to keep the world steady even when it feels like chaos reigns.

Chapter 10: Spirits in Transition

After my grandma passed, I began to sense a powerful thread connecting those who left this world around the same time. Keith Flint, the wild heart of The Prodigy, crossed over shortly after her, and then Queen Elizabeth II passed in two thousand twenty-two. Their departures weren’t random but part of a greater spiritual balance.

My grandma and the Queen left this world in eerily similar ways. Both experienced quiet, peaceful departures involving complications like fluid in the lungs. It felt as if their spirits were linked, called together by a higher power to help restore balance between good and evil in the unseen world.

Keith Flint’s spirit joined them too. After his passing, I felt his energy—fiery and intense—helping to hold the line in the spiritual realm, balancing forces we can’t always see but feel deeply.

When the Queen died, I was broken inside. But her strength reached through the darkness, giving me a second chance—a renewed hope to rise, find work, get my surgery, and return to London. Her spirit stayed with me, pushing me forward when I needed it most.

These spirits—my grandma’s quiet grace, the Queen’s regal power, and Keith’s fierce energy—walk together on the other side. Their journeys remind me that death is not an end but a transformation, a call to continue the fight between light and shadow from beyond.

Around me, the black cabs waited in their glossy ranks, shining under the sunlight like sleek sentinels. The drivers smoked cigarettes, eyes flickering with curiosity and something like awe, watching as I stood there worshipping the sun, lost in the music and the moment. It was like they recognized the energy, the connection—a shared understanding that London’s spirit was alive and fierce.

 The spirits whisper, “The Queen is back. You’re back.” But even as I felt this warm welcome, there was a warning: don’t leave the airport for hours. Bomb threats lurked, rumors of contamination and COVID 2.0 made the air thick with tension. It was like unseen forces tried to keep me away, to stop my return.

I found refuge by Pret, buying food as the crowd thinned and sharp-suited men—like real-life 007 agents—moved in to defuse a bomb threat. Hours passed until they found the woman who planned to trigger disaster. Through the spirits and my presence, we reached her, calming the storm before it could erupt. Exhausted, I checked into the Marriott Hotel, feeling the weight of the city’s cold mystery settle around me.

Days passed in a blur, the spirits pulling me deeper. They interrogated me about truths hidden in shadows—about Tupac’s shooting, about secrets I carried. In the hotel’s stillness, the city’s red skyline lights flickered like silent watchers, embodying those who believed in the story I told. They spoke of a coming concert with Pete TONG, lights blazing like a massive celebration. It reminded me of Búzios, where promises of parties and lights never fully materialized.





Chapter: Shadows and Truth About Tupac’s Death

Days passed in a blur, but in London, the spirits pulled me deeper. They pressed me, interrogated me about the truth hidden in shadows—the night Tupac was shot.

Back then, I didn’t feel safe speaking about it—not in Brazil, not in America. It was too heavy, too confusing. But in London, something shifted. The questions came again—truth, memories, details. And even though time had blurred much, one moment always stayed vivid: Tupac getting shot.

I remembered being there—whether in body or spirit, I can’t say—but I saw Tupac get shot. I cried, reaching for him, but a security guard held me back. I was small, powerless, overwhelmed by grief and fear.

This wasn’t the first time pieces of that night had surfaced. After my grandma died in Montana, I tried to push it away, but it haunted me. When I traveled to Vegas, staying at Caesar’s Palace, the memories flickered again. Surrounded by the glitz and ghosts of the city, listening to Tupac’s music and Whitney’s soulful voice, the spirits whispered fragments—but they took them back, shielding me when I wasn’t ready.

Now in London, the weight of those shadows could no longer be ignored. The spirits demanded the truth, and I was forced to face it—to speak what I had held inside for so long.

This was more than a memory. It was a calling—a step toward healing, a release of the story that the spirits entrusted to me across time and space.

One day, drawn by the spirits, I ventured to Chinatown. Bruce Lee’s energy lingered there, alive and protective. Chinese men met me with knowing smiles, a recognition of the spirit I carried. The Korean masters of Taekwondo acknowledged me, sharing truths about legacy, honor, and a brewing conflict between China, Korea, and Japan. Carrying Bruce Lee’s spirit felt like a sacred trust, a connection that bound me to the city’s unseen protectors.

But London’s chill was relentless. After a night in the Travelodge, shivering uncontrollably in the bathroom, the kind hotel staff brought me warmth and called paramedics. I was on the edge of hypothermia, a harsh reminder that this city demanded respect. The hospital’s quiet warmth was a stark contrast to the cold shadows outside, yet even there, the weight of spirits and secrets pressed on me.

I found myself drawn to a small corner shop, memories flooded back—it was like stepping into Tupac’s “I Ain’t Mad at Cha” video. I could almost see the scene play out—the guy buying something, the tension in the air, the sudden violence, the spirit lingering afterward. It was déjà vu, like the spirits were warning me: something might happen here, maybe even that I could get hurt.

I bought everything the spirits asked for—different kinds of alcohol, snacks, even socks—though I wasn’t drinking or smoking. It felt like a ritual, a way to honor the unseen forces around me. Then I headed back to the hotel, knowing the interrogation wasn’t over.

The next day, I returned to that corner, but this time, I gave all the things I’d bought to a homeless man outside. It felt right, like passing on a blessing, turning a dark premonition into an act of kindness.

But then my Longchamp bag appeared mysteriously on the shop’s doorstep. Its presence unsettled me, a symbol that the spirits were still at work, urging me to release what no longer served me. And through it all, the spirits warned of planes circling overhead, like a ghostly echo of 9-11, a quiet threat lurking in the skies. London’s guardians—the 007s—kept watch in silence, allowing only whispers to those who could bear the truth.

I learned to carry that knowledge in silence, finding solace in small moments—the music, the kindness, the city’s hidden lights. London was a kingdom of frost and mystery, of shadows and spirits, but it was also home.

Chapter: The Underground Pulse

Getting around London meant mastering the Tube, the heartbeat of the city beneath its streets. But my iPhone had other ideas—Emergency SOS kept triggering on its own, each time trying to connect me to the USA. At first, I thought it was a glitch, just tech acting up. But my mind raced back to what the spirits told me in Búzios. Maybe I was being watched. Maybe my phone was tapped.

One day, on the Piccadilly Line heading to Heathrow, I noticed a group of men who didn’t look like regular commuters. They were grimy, worn down, like they lived in the tunnels themselves. Their eyes held a raw watchfulness that sent chills through me. I suspected they were up to something—maybe even heading to Heathrow with a dangerous plan.

Then, on impulse, I hit the SOS button. The screen flashed, the call connected, but instead of a calm voice, there was static and a low, urgent warning to be careful, to watch the skies. My heart raced as I glanced back at those men, wondering if I was right.

Suddenly, the tannoy announced: all trains to Heathrow were cancelled. Passengers had to get off. The men I’d seen exchanged sharp words—their plan disrupted. I tried to warn those around me, but the tension was invisible to everyone else.

As we spilled out onto the cold platform, I felt caught between two worlds—a city alive with secrets, spirits, and shadows. I decided to head back into the heart of London, grateful the threat had been stopped.

The Underground, with its tunnels and trains, isn’t just transport—it’s a pulse, a rhythm that connects me to London’s soul. Whenever I ride the Tube, I feel like I’m part of the city’s lifeblood. It’s where the city breathes, where stories intertwine underground. And so, by being there, I know I belonged in that city with my heart and soul..

Chapter: Lost and Found in London

After the underground scare, I finally made it to London and decided to check in at the Hilton Hotel across from Heathrow. I craved a proper bath and a good night’s sleep—something to reset after days of chaos. But the Hilton Hotel wasn’t what I expected. No windows to open, no balcony, the shower barely warmed the water, and the freezing air conditioning made rest impossible. I tried to hide a smoke in the bathroom, running the shower to mask it, but the mirror didn’t fog up in one square—my mind raced. Was there a camera watching me? When I complained, the staff grew hostile and eventually asked me to leave, still charging me for the night.

Upset and freezing, I called my friend Simon. He’d helped me before, chatting football and offering support, so I trusted him to find a better place. He booked me into the Ibis Hotel nearby. The room had a bathtub, which was a small comfort, but the area felt cold and unfriendly. The morning staff were rude, and the local shops held a harsh energy. The spirits weren’t happy either—telling me this wasn’t the right place.

Burning through savings and lacking the proper clothes for London’s chill, I missed America’s warmth and service. Still, I kept pushing forward, guided by the strength of my grandparents and the spirits that surrounded me. Occasionally, angels appeared in the form of kind strangers, giving me hope.

Seeking refuge, I decided to visit Tams, a friend who’d once promised me I could stay with her if I ever came back to London. But things had changed. Tams, who was said to suffer from Alzheimer’s, was guarded and distant. The house was a mess, and the man staying with her grew aggressive. I called the police, scared for both our safety, only to discover the illness might be an act. The tension left me shaken, and I took back the bags I’d left at her place.

Exhausted and heavy-hearted, I donated a bag full of belongings to a nearby charity shop—unable to carry the weight any longer. With nowhere else to go, I checked into the Travelodge. Simple and budget-friendly, it became a sanctuary. The staff treated me with kindness, letting me rest, recharge, and linger in the lobby after checkout. I met people—Irish, British, Europeans—whose spirits connected with mine, helping me feel grounded. Their energy was exactly what I needed.

Though the road was far from easy, those moments of kindness and connection kept me moving forward.

Chapter:Between Prayers and Night Buses

After checking back into the Travelodge, I felt determined—but the chips were still all on the table. The visa scam from the previous year had left me in a tight spot. I’d paid four thousand pounds upfront for a UK visa, expecting to become a British citizen someday, but when things went wrong, the company refused to return the money. My savings were gone, my credit cards were failing, and I had no job or home in London.

I reached out to my friend Woodrie and her mom Paula in Alaska, hoping they might help me buy a ticket to a cheaper place—maybe Vietnam or Bali—where my money would stretch further. But Paula didn’t think it was a good idea, and other friends didn’t answer. My family, like before in Hawaii, wasn’t able to help either.

With no other option, I turned to Christ Church Kensington, hoping my church community would offer support. They did help with dinner and put me up for a night, but soon their demands felt intrusive—they wanted access to my emails, messages and every part of my life. It was unsettling, and I began to wonder if the church was truly there to help me or to control me.

Thankfully, another church member I’d known for months offered me a place to stay near Notting Hill Base for two weeks. Her home was simple but charming, filled with pictures of the Queen and hints of British tradition. That connection felt like a blessing in the storm.

Still, when I came home late one night after wrestling with visa problems, she told me firmly it was time to leave. Back to square one.

Feeling rejected and abandoned by the church, I turned to a Mormon congregation, where I was given fifty pounds but told not to return by a security guard. Alone, I wandered London’s streets, praying and trying to clear my mind.

The pressure became too much. I smashed my iPad and threw it into the trash by Chelsea Bridge. I broke my iPhone into pieces so I couldn’t be tracked or contacted anymore. It was a breaking point—and a step toward reclaiming my freedom.

Despite the chaos, London held me. I walked for hours every day, from Kensington to King’s Cross, taking in the city’s beauty as I tried to find a way forward. Starbucks became my refuge—quiet places where I could sit, sip water, and think.

At night, I rode buses through the city, sometimes until the early hours. One night, a bus stayed in the garage all day, and I found peace in its silence until the driver discovered me, sharing his lunch and guiding me back into town. Those bus rides became lifelines—moments of calm amid the storm. They all deserve a raise.

Every day, I checked the bank, hoping for the visa refund that never came. It was my fragile thread of hope, the thing I clung to as I kept going, holding faith that one day, I’d get back on my feet.

Chapter: Surviving the Cold

That time in London was raw and uncertain, but it taught me resilience—how to survive when everything feels lost and how to find light even in the darkest moments.

I remember one freezing night in London. I had nowhere warm to go, so I sat on the cold stone steps in front of the church I’d been going to for six months—a place that had become my anchor. I was wrapped in every layer I had, but the cold still cut through me. My body shook, and I felt utterly alone. I hadn’t eaten in days, and my energy was fading fast.

Around two in the morning, the security guard doing his rounds noticed me shivering. Without a word, he took off his own sandwich and handed it to me. That small act of kindness was like a lifeline in the dark. I ate slowly, feeling warmth from the food and from his quiet compassion.

The next day, I found a onesie in my bag and started wearing it at night. It was the only thing that really kept me warm, making me look like that person from the Coldplay music video “Paradise.” Still, it gave me comfort when everything else felt so hard.

As I walked through London, the spirit started telling me things I wasn’t ready for. It said the queen was slowly poisoned by her tea by the Brazilians. That thought hit me hard, and suddenly I found myself despising hearing Portuguese spoken on the streets—I couldn’t understand why, but the feeling was intense. I just listened to those thoughts without acting on them.

Trying to make sense of it all, I went back to Heathrow, spending time at the Elizabeth Terminal. Everywhere I looked, “Elizabeth” was written, reminding me of my grandma. One day, I fainted in a coffee shop. The spirits warned me I was being drugged by the sugar and tea at the hotel, but in reality, it might have been low blood pressure and anemia. I called the paramedics, remembering Tupac’s song “Keep Yourself Safe.” They took me to the hospital, where I got a full checkup and food. I was healthy.

Even while trying to survive each day, I found little pockets of beauty. I wandered around Harrods and Fortnum and Mason—the latter filled with so much of the Queen’s approval in its design and service. It felt like she wanted me to experience the legacy she built, a reminder of the beauty London holds despite the hardships.

But my body was fragile. I fainted often, even at bars. My energy became incredibly sensitive again. Back in Búzios, the spirits had told me I’d be the next queen. I didn’t want that—I wanted to be a legend. So I told them to find someone else. Still, I kept moving forward, listening to all the thoughts swirling in my mind.

Sometimes, to keep things light, I joked I was Meghan Markle’s cousin from California, wearing my Dodgers cap. People laughed at that, calling her “Markle Markle.” It was a small way to hold onto humor amid the struggle.

At night, I only wanted to see brothers, fathers, kings on the streets. I didn’t want to see women—I just needed the strength and protection of the men around me. The brothers, the construction workers—they were the ones who helped me most. They shared cigarettes, sometimes food, and offered conversations that reminded me I wasn’t completely alone.

Those moments made London feel less lonely. I began noticing signs of my grandparents’ spirits too. Like the old lady at Chelsea Stadium who reminded me of my grandma, or the man at the coffee shop Pratt who listened quietly as I talked about my visa struggles. It felt like my grandfather’s spirit telling me to stay calm and keep going.

That sense of connection gave me strength I needed to keep moving forward, even when everything felt impossible.

One night, I met two guys on the street, and one of them looked exactly like Kobe Bryan. I told him, “You remind me of Kobe,” half-joking. Then he smiled and said, “Well, my name is Kobe.” We started chatting, and before I knew it, he ended up buying me a warm drink. It was one of those rare nights where I felt seen and safe, even if just for a moment. Those little pockets of kindness kept me going when everything else felt heavy and cold.

Chapter 9: The Mental Breakdown
Sometimes I’d sneak into M&S bathrooms to change clothes and wash. I’d eat Whole Foods food in the bathroom until they caught me. They showed me a photo of the food offerings I’d left for the spirits and warned me to stay away. The spirits told me we were tasting food with products that have weed but are not telling the public about all the ingredients hidden in it.

I was hungry, so I went back a few days later—hoping for a new security shift. I dropped a basket of alcohol in the bubbly aisle. I had enough money on my Oyster to get on the train. I saw someone in a Red Bull New York shirt—it gave me courage. At another store, I took a bite of a pretzel and dropped the basket again. There was broken glass. Miraculously, I wasn’t cut.

The police came. They were kind. But they filmed me. Everyone filmed me. They handcuffed me and brought me to the station. A man next to me, an Allah brother, told the interpreter he would only drink tea and fast for Allah. I wondered if I needed one but just said I was from California.

Ten officers tried to take my fingerprints. They almost broke my arm. I was thrown back into a cell. Two doctors came. Then I was transferred to the Lillie Ward and medicated against my will.

Chapter 9.2: Spirit Visits & Angels in the City

At the Lillie Ward in Hammersmith, I didn’t speak for the first few days. But my spirits were with me. Grandma. Grandpa. Princess Diana. I would cry, scream, rage—but inside. The staff forced medication. At night, six people would come with pills. I felt betrayed. Like the same bootcamp in Hawaii all over again. I thought the tea and milk were drugged.

Eventually, I made friends with a Jamaican cleaning lady—looked like my grandpa. She brought me snacks, new clothes and other gifts. She gave me money when i was leaving london, she met me at Heathrow and money to eat and start my life in Brazil. I ended up enjoying it too much at the hospital. I didn’t even want to leave. But I’m glad I did.

Princess Diana became my London mommy and Mildred the staff lady that gave me gifts at the hospital.

Chapter 9.5: Rage, Hospitals & Tupac’s Spirit

I couldn’t handle the forced medication. Rage flowed through me.  I yelled like a crazy person but I wasn't crazy, just did not want to take medication against my will. I was like Tupac, showing my belly scar in Lillie ward hospital ward meetings because I wanted the doctors to see what the Brazilians did to me… I have a scar from under my boobs to my crotch like a tattoo—Thug Life.

I was hearing Makaveli in my head. I thought they were trying to kill me. But Tupac’s spirit kept me company. I didn’t belong in a mental hospital—I was just spiritually cracked.

Chapter 9.6: Chelsea Drama & Subway Prophecies

A guy by Fulham Cemetery found my iPhone after hours—legend. I gave a laptop to a brother in Chelsea. He kept it. I wanted to die. I visited hospitals, fainting from anemia. 911 always came. Tea, sandwiches, sometimes a bed, usually just rest.

The spirits told me bombs would fall. Chelsea Stadium was evacuated after I warned security. A lady there reminded me of my grandma—candy, big hearted, Chelsea scarf.

At a Chelsea bar, girls tried to cut me in the bathroom.The spirits said.  I locked myself in. Called 911. Glass cracked outside. They took me to the NHS hospital again because I fainted in the bathroom again.

One guy near the cemetery invited me over. Grew weed. Heavy accent. Fabulous. The Spirits said to leave. I ran. Left passport, glasses, phone. He returned them months later.

Everything had my grandma’s name—Elizabeth ER. Grandpa showed up too.

Chapter 9.7: The Doctor’s Question

A doctor at the hospital was interrogating me to see if I was ok to be released from the crazy hospital. He asked, “What are you running from?” You lived in Alaska, Seattle, London, Greece, Bali, Australia, LA, Hawaii, Brazil… “I enjoy traveling,” I said. “I build websites. I work remotely. You guys are the crazy ones for not loving to travel the world.” - they did not let me leave, apparently I wasn't sane enough to be released yet.—I wasn’t escaping. I was living. He didn’t get it. None of them did. Only the spirits did. My journey is bigger than paperwork or psychology.

Chapter 9.10: Heathrow, Paradise Onesie
Eventually, I made it to Heathrow again. One week of chaos. Dealing with tickets. Getting kicked out of a plane for saying I smoked weed and drank a bit of champagne. Missed my flight. My stepdad Greg bought me another ticket—cussed me the whole time and said it was the last time. Classic Greg.

I hated bikers in London. I hated them with that big "L" on their backs. My aunt Virginia’s biker friend once touched my boob when I was just a kid. That moment ruined showers for me for years. No one knew—except my cousin. Me too. We don’t talk about it, we forgive but don't forget.

I realized I might be crazy after London. No one committed me this time,but they took me to another crazy hospital in another country—but I got out. I was calm. It was just a phase. We all go through phases. Just like the moon. Like seasons. Like nature. I went full circle.

Last year in London, I was living like a princess. Paying £1600 rent in Kensington. Going to church. Grocery shopping at M&S. Walking my neighborhood. I got job offers. I did five rounds of interviews and tests for Roon Music—the JBL speaker company. They offered me $186K. Life was calm. Life was easy. Then six months later, I was sleeping on my church's doorstep.

Life flipped. But I still loved every second of London. Especially when I took my last cab around the city, it reminded me that I still love London, even after freezing.

London isn’t just a place. It’s my forever city. My dreams live here. And when I return, it’ll be for good.

Chapter 9.11: Back in Bonfim

Brazil was never the plan. But now, I’m back—back in Bonfim, in the same house my grandparents lived in, the one my father built with his hands. Bonfim means “Good Ending” in Portuguese. And maybe this isn’t the end. Maybe it’s the beginning—again.

I came back with scars, but I wasn’t broken. London didn’t defeat me. It tested me. And I survived. I lived through the cold, the hunger, the chaos, the crack. I walked through the fire and made it to the other side.

Back in my hometown, I found silence. I found my grandma’s church just a walk away. The spirits never left me. I was resting. Healing. Planning. Writing. And in the middle of the quiet, I sat on the floor, weak and tired—my body exhausted, but my soul still burning.

Out loud, I said: “I’m not done.”

And the spirits clapped.

That moment changed everything.

No one saved me. I saved myself.

From that day forward, I didn’t just survive. I started building. I picked up my pen, sat at my desk, and remembered who I was—the girl who once worked for the top networks in LA like SONY, Disney, Fox Sports, NBC Universal, ABC, CBS and Dreamworks, a national champion, an Emmy nominee. The girl with a mission, a voice, a story.

Bonfim wasn't a failure. It was a reset. A sacred pause before the next chapter. Because I’m not done. Not even close.

Chapter 10: Godson and Family - Spirit Intervention 

Spirituality is pushing my mom away with her bad spirits. Now we have peace to write, to be. Let it be. The moon looked the same as when I was in Búzios and London. It looks like the Ninja Turtle or a mask. What a difference 24 little hours made...

I must tell the Spirits, Whitney—my soul sister—what just went down. They already know the situation because they were here and helped me. My 50s spirits... the New Yorkers in spirit, New York, NY.

Tio Túlio—a skinny leg, super smart man who smoked crack, weed his whole life, and is a recovering alcoholic. He loves music and knows how to play the guitar. The spirit of Whitney came as my grandma's voice. My auntie, sister, American mommy USA came to the rescue. My brother is 2Pac too... like they think we are going back to jail.

My mother’s options after she trespassed into my house, broke everything, and hit me? Restraining order. She could move out and be homeless again, go to her apartments, or go to jail or to a mental hospital. Or just give me peace to work, smoke, and just be.

Last night she came when Tio Túlio was screaming on the floor, blacked out from alcohol. He reminded me of my drunk old friends in LA or the USA. Today I got a locker to keep the house secure. While testing the key, a tiny pin fell out and the lock came undone. Symbolic.

She tried to call the police to send me to a mental institution, but instead, the cops warned her. If I press charges... she could be homeless, jailed, or worse. Now I know my brother 2Pac was here. Damn. He knows.

She broke everything. Chairs, flower vases, slammed doors. But thank God I had heavy furniture, the kind that doesn’t move. Minimalist, like a psych ward. Safe.

My room is just my bed, a big mirror, and peace. Bars on the windows. Feels like solitary. Like house arrest. Like Queen Liliuokalani in Hawai‘i. Like the hospital rooms where I had my surgeries. Where only my grandparents, God, and Jesus were with me. Papai do Céu.
Sadness is here. I feel for my mom. She wanted to be a good mother. But she also has mental illness, just like grandma. We all cray cray. Cray in this family.

She was once almost homeless in San Francisco and didn't speak with the family for 5 years. Heard spirits. Was a stripper. Made a lot of money. Lost it all. Bad karma. I forgive her. Hail Mary. Psalm 91.

I glance over Princess Diana's photo. They said she had a mental illness like my grandma or me or my mom. Princess D was the best mommy ever. She had family drama too. Even Harry isn't allowed back into his own country.

Thank God I didn’t buy more mirrors. Liana would’ve broken them all. She’s saying I’m using drugs, in and out of crazy hospitals. Same lies she said in Alaska. I wasn’t on drugs. I was studying, doing Taekwondo, and having a few parties. Now I’m just smoking flowers.

Banksy comes to mind—instead of grenades, the guy is throwing flowers. My mom threw chairs. Flower vases shattered. Flowers on the floor. Good thing I was going for the minimalist look, heavy furniture like a cray hospital.

Chapter 10.2: The Police and the Flip

Liana thought she could call the cops and lock me up. Again. But this time the police didn’t come for me—they came for her. They warned her. If I press charges, she could be out, homeless, or jailed. Just like in San Francisco, when she disappeared for five years. I had to go find her, like a mother. Bought her a plane ticket, got her home. I saved her.

Now I’m saving myself.

The spirits flipped the game faster than pancakes. She tried to break me. But I’m not breakable anymore. I got the protection now. Grandpa is the police of the spirits. Grandma is the queen. The 50s are with me. Whitney. Pac. Diana. They all see what’s happening. They’re helping me write, heal, and finally speak my truth.

Chapter 10.3: My Grandpa the Spirit Cop

We are free now. The Gladiator soundtrack plays in the background. Grandpa is Maximus. In the Bible, he is Joseph the slave. I invited all my spirit gods, legends, for my grandpa Vozão’s anniversary—21 years since he passed. The spirits showed up after the invite. The next day, Bruninho came by without notice. Tio Túlio came too. They bonded over construction. We all did.

Eminem plays: "I’m not afraid." These demons are jumping jacks now. Jesus. God. Angels.

2Pac Makaveli. Tupac quote: "Activate my hate." Tio Túlio was on the floor screaming drunk. Liana called the police. She looked crazy. I slammed the door. Heard her saying, "She’s getting aggressive." I took her phone and told the police I would call the firefighters. Then broke the phone to pieces—like I did in London when the church refused to help.

Then she lost it. If only she had called for help and left. Instead, she broke everything. Hit me. So the game flipped. Faster than American pancakes.

2Pac song: "Keys in my pockets." They think I’m going back to jail? "You got the 2 most wanted in the same goddamn room." Gangster party. Tupac. Gangster Paradise. Coolio.

Out in California, we shoot.

Chapter 10.4: When Grandma Came Back

Life was wonderful when grandma was alive. She came back as an angel to help me sort out these spirits. Whitney is grandma's voice. 

I saw her. She came into Maria’s body at the corner shop called Sovito. Maria started crying and said, “I love you.” That was grandma. I felt her.

And then, a boy who looked just like Tupac came and asked for food. I gave him bread. That was spirit, too.

Even at the cemetery, I saw signs. Grandma’s flower was dry, so I watered it. A toy pearl was missing. But I saw Tupac’s scarf on another grave. These are no coincidences. These are spirit reminders. Grandma is always near.

Chapter 10.5: The Spirit Lineage

Grandma was called crazy, just like me. But she heard the spirits. Now she’s the queen of all spirits.

Grandpa is the moon. Scorpio energy. Police of the spirit world.

I finally found out who my spirit gods are. They’ve always been with me. From LA to Búzios. From Bondi to Bonfim.

This isn't a mental illness. This is spiritual inheritance. This is cosmic wisdom returning to earth. We are the bridge.




Chapter 10.6: My Bubble Around the World

This isn’t just Bonfim. I’ve lived in bubbles across the globe. Bondi Bubble. Aloha Bubble. Búzios Bubble. Now I’m back to Legends and Bubbles. Each legend has its own bubble, but we move as one—like water. Like Bruce Lee said: “Be water, my friend.”

I lived on Kings Road in Hollywood. I was nominated for an Emmy. Won championships in Taekwondo. Got a full scholarship to Seattle. Lived next to icebergs in Bondi Beach. Created apps for NBC, FOX, and Sony. And yet here I am—in Bonfim. Resetting. Resting. Writing.

Chapter 10.7: Diana’s Eyes, Whitney’s Voice

Princess Diana watched me. She had mental illness too, but I know the truth—she was light. They all tried to silence her like they did to me. But now she’s one of my spirit guides. My soul sisters. My royal bloodline. Diana, Whitney, me—we’re not crazy. We’re the chosen ones.

So was my grandma. But the truth? We’re not crazy—we’re spirit channels. Queens. Healers. Soul warriors. Whitney is grandma’s voice. Diana? She's my protector. My London mommy. Together, we’re a spiritual bloodline of women who feel everything too deeply to live quietly.


Chapter 10.8: Godson Prophecy

Bruninho was always meant to be in my story. 

Bruninho brings me more than tea—he brings purpose. He rolls tea with such care, always thinking of me. He remembers grandpa, his laughter, the way he’d splash water or pull our hair as a joke. Bruninho’s faith in the spirit runs deep. He knows they’re here. We talk about life, reincarnation, jobs, dreams. One day I’ll take him to Europe. He deserves everything.

 He’s helping get all the material to rebuild my bathroom for free, and we rebuild each other in the process. He reminds me of who I was and who I’m becoming. The miracle accident that didn’t kill him? Grandpa was there. I know it. I feel it. I believe it. A miracle. Like my godson. I love him so much.

I think 2Pac is with him too. We bonded. My babies are finally here: 2Pac, Whitney, Princess Diana, my 50s and more. They tried to make me go to rehab. I said, "No, no, no." Amy Winehouse in the background.

 We share stories and memories with me while the full moon shines above.

Bruninho and I are closer than ever. Godmother and godson. My heart breaks when his dad treats him badly. His other grandpa owns a Range Rover and they’re all engineers, but he’s stuck in construction. Still, he brings me flowers shaped like a weed leaf. Tea. Rolled in 8s. I love him so much.

I let him borrow money. He comes by with tea and joy. He said one day, he’ll go to London with me. I believe it.

We speak about the future. I almost took him to London but my job ended abruptly and I had to change the plans. I still will.


Chapter 10.9: Legacy of Light - Tea, Tupac & The Gospel 

This journey—filled with family chaos, tears, love, and spirits—has been about light. About truth. About finding my voice. Finding peace in tea and the spirits. Finding strength in memories of grandpa. Finding freedom in saying: this is my story, and I am finally telling it.I say a silent prayer to grandma. Her voice returns through Whitney’s songs. Diana watches. I feel her nod.

Amy sings in the background: "They tried to make me go to rehab..." I said no. Not because I didn’t need help—but because my help was spiritual. Real. Sacred. The kind you don’t get in clinics or pills. You get it through the smoke of tea and the rhythm of Tupac’s bars echoing through your bones like gospel.

I wasn’t running away from healing. I was finding a new way to heal. Tupac’s lyrics? They weren’t just songs. They were scripture. Every “Hit ‘Em Up,” every “Hail Mary,” every “Keep Ya Head Up.” They were prayers. They were confessions. They were blueprints for survival. I’d sit in silence, light the tea, and let the smoke carry my pain to the spirits.

Some days, I’d cry just from hearing a beat. Other days, I'd laugh out loud like I was in a church full of testimony and tambourines. This wasn’t therapy. It was testimony. It was me sitting with God, my grandpa, Whitney, Diana, and 2Pac—rolling papers and rolling through pain at the same time.

Tea wasn’t just tea. It was a ritual. It was communication. It was a truth serum. It took me to places no medication ever could. It made me remember who I am. A storyteller. A survivor. A godmother. A daughter. A spirit in motion.

Every puff of tea smoke is a prayer. When I light it, I’m talking to grandma, to grandpa, to all the legends: Tupac, Whitney, Diana, Amy, Bruce Lee. Each has their voice. Each delivers messages. Tupac says, “Bring out the champagne.” Amy sings “Rehab” in the background. Whitney whispers, “We almost had it all.”

This house, this bubble, is the altar. Bonfim is my temple. My sanctuary. The sacred reset.

I am not afraid anymore. This is more than healing—this is legacy. This is testimony. This is my gospel. Tupac is scripture. The rolling paper is the scroll. The smoke isn't smoke—it’s spirit.

London had me walking in onesies, Kensington flats, and frozen bus stops. Búzios had me calling down angels and fighting demons with hip-hop and herbs. And now, Bonfim has settled. Writing. Reflecting. Sipping tea like communion. Smoking flowers like offerings. Listening to Tupac like a sermon.

This isn’t just healing—it’s church. It's a ceremony. It's a prophecy. It’s a bubble, yes, but it’s my sanctuary.

This isn’t just survival—it’s testimony. It's a church. It’s family. It's a legacy.

Chapter 10.10: Three lions - The Boys I Chose in Búzios

I picked them in Búzios. Leo, Bruninho, and Kaio. These are my lion cubs. I’m their lioness.I told the spirits, these are the only ones I want to help. My chosen family. Grandpa didn't like the idea of leaving Bruninho behind, but they only gave me two slots. I said no. I'm keeping all three. I won't turn my back on them.  They see me. They love me. And I love them back. Their spirits are already awake. They carry light. They carry legacy. The ones I’ll help, always.

Leo—my lion king. I gave him the red telephone box with pounds inside, the only gift I bought from London. He was just a baby when he said “be silent” and told me I was "mean." That was grandpa talking through him. Grandma was still alive.Leo said, “I wanted to come to your birthday.” Kaio cried when I had to leave. He didn’t want to let go.

Kaio—my baby for a few days. Picked him in Búzios too. We played ninja, got sweet cookies for breakfast, and he cried when I had to go. His spirit knows. He’s light. He’s pure. He wanted to come with me.

Bruninho—he’s my godson, but also my angel. He rolls my tea. He brings me flowers. He fixes my house. He listens to spirits. He is protected. And he protects me. We smoke. We pray. We laugh. He is a joy.

Chapter 10.11: Reset at Pride Rock

This house in Bonfim is my sacred  reset. It’s not glamorous—it’s solitary, quiet,high ceilings, full of memories from my grandparents and simple. But it’s holy. I wake, I fast, I write, I pray. The bathroom is under construction. The bubble is rebuilding. This is my “Pride Rock,” like in The Lion King.  It’s minimal, like a mental hospital, but now I’m the healer, not the patient.

This was once my grandpa's house and my dad built it for me.. Bonfim. The place of "good ending."

Minimalist everything.I’m building again. With spirit. With intention.

I’m learning the value of a dollar. Of eggs. Of ciggies. Of oatmeal cookies. Grandma smiles when I bake. Diana watches. Whitney sings. Tupac nods.

My legacy starts here. My future begins again—on this land. In this bubble. With this story.

Now we are slowly rebuilding the bubble. The house, the people, the spirits. Grandpa is my moon, always watching from above. I have no doubt my grandma is here, too. This is Bonfim, my spirit city. My pride rock. My new beginning.

I fast when I have to. I smoke when I need to. I write because I must. The vision board is filled. The legends have been called. We are ready. The next chapter is done.

Chapter 10.12: Writing from Bonfim – The Good Ending

This is where I finish the book. Not in London. Not in Búzios. Not in Hawaii. Not in Australia. But here, in Bonfim—which means "the good ending."

I’ve got my desktop, my laptop, and my tea. No distractions. Just memories, spirits, and my words. I’m finally writing the book that started nine years ago. The journey that began in Australia, Honolulu, California, Montana, Vegas, Búzios, Rio de Janeiro, and London ends here—for now. I understand why it didn’t work out in other places. I was too busy surviving. Now I’m living. And writing.

I looked through my notes from seven years ago and realized I had already created the Legends App. I finished editing Book Two, and it brought tears to my eyes—especially the chapter about my grandma's passing and my life in Hollywood.

My grandpa's dream was to have a beach home for the family. Someday, I hope to honor that. I'm going to the beach in a few months with my aunt, Leo, and Kaio. I’ve lived at some of the best beaches in the world—California, Australia, Hawaii—but this trip makes my heart sing. A beach with family. The last time I did that, I was a child, the same age as the boys now, and grandpa was still alive.

Looking at my old notes, I found the original sketches and texts for the Bond Bubble and the Legends App, created in Hawaii and Australia. Some of the people I considered legends back then have faded from that light. Maybe that’s why the project didn’t take off. Now, my legends are spirit gods. Past legends who still inspire me.

Bruninho came by with tea to celebrate his birthday—classic godson, he showed up four days late! But when he did, it was magical. We laughed, we smoked, we talked. He’s the only one who knows I’m finishing this book.

Another cat showed up at my house. It looked just like Pac—the cat I named in Hawaii. Cats can see spirits. This one peed right where I felt a spirit appear, at my front door. He curled up under my bed, just like grandma used to sit beside me.

And then came another breakthrough. Now it all makes sense: the bubble, the legends, the spirits… DEUS.I’M.

I went to the corner shop—the kind I always end up at no matter where I am in the world. I could’ve saved money at the supermarket, but time is precious when creativity is flowing. I forgot my card. The man said, "Just pay it later." Classic Brazilian hospitality.

The books are almost done. Just a few tweaks left. I still need to add the Disney story I came up with last night—it’s based in London. Naturally. The Queen and Princess Diana have first say on the project. They chose London.

The platform and app designs were done between seven and thirteen years ago. I always build everything—websites, UX/UI, apps—but I never finish because of lack of investment, burnout, or trying to juggle a job and a startup. So now, I’m on welfare and mental disability. It gives me peace to work on this project. Brazil and the UK think I’m crazy. But I’m like the author of Harry Potter: no rent, no job, but big dreams.

I’m not a convict. I’m a genius. I just need to be sensible with money until the donations start.

Yes—donations and offerings. I accept Red Bull, champagne, flowers, milk for kids in the slums, diapers, food, blankets, old iPhones, fabulous perfumes. Spirits love things that smell and taste good. And so do I.

I’ve spent thousands on champagne and VIP tables. No regrets. But now, I see people in my hometown asking for milk, lunch, snacks. Some have no legs. There are over 1,000 slums in Brazil. You know City of God? That’s just one. Rocinha is another—a city of its own with the best views in Rio.

That’s where I met a family who helped me when I had nothing. They let me stay with them for free. God bless them.

Maybe all my other projects failed because I needed to start with Brazil. I’ve always lived in first-world countries. Sometimes I feel more American than Brazilian. I grew up in the U.S. That’s why most of my legends are American. They’re my spirits. My kids. I can’t have children yet. So they’re my babies. Princess Diana laughs.

The spirits made me give everything away. I broke iPhones, iPads. I get paid and give it all away. There’s that quote: "The meaning of life is to find your gift. The purpose is to give it away." Now it all makes sense.

This project bears God’s name. All my legends, stars, spirit gods—they don’t get royalties. So I’ll donate to their charities. Help my Hawaiian, Aboriginal, Indian, Balinese, homeless friends. And the animals. Mental health institutions too.

Books, apps, platforms—all donation-based. Choose your cause, and we’ll give or send offerings. Spirits love the homeless and the crazy. Part of the funds go to mental institutions. Diana smiles. Grandma is happy. She wrote me a note I carried for years until it disintegrated. It read, “Te adoro, Sara. I hope God blesses all your projects.”

After reading about Rio’s gangs and slums, I know Tupac gave me the idea to visit mental hospitals and Rocinha during COVID. I launched a dropshipping business for the Bondi Bubble, Aloha Bubble, Hawaii Legends App, Byron Bubble, Mahalo Bubble, Búzios Bubble, London Designs... They all failed. But the bubble didn’t burst. It grew.

This is Year Nine. The year of completion. It all makes sense now.

Even the name: DEUSIM. It means “It worked” in Portuguese. It also means “God, yes.” I have God’s name on this project. This one will go from Brazil back to Hollywood, London, or Australia. Maybe even Hawaii.

I know I’ll visit you guys soon. Maybe I’ll end up in a mental hospital in Hollywood and meet Whitney, Michael, Tupac, Disney, Kobe, Jobs. The only place I haven’t checked is the cray-cray hospitals. I bet they’re full of stars.

I want to send donors a gift—dropshipping products. The old ones got lost in Hawaii when I went to Montana. Jobs and Apple still have my iCloud data. I’ve been an Apple girl since 1994. My old friend threw out my storage unit in Hawaii. Ten MacBooks. Gone. Like the California fires.

Thank God for web.archive.org—I can still see my old projects. It started with Bondi Bubble. I had so many plans. I was even featured in a local blog. Ten years later, it still stands. That’s my longest relationship.

I’ve bought more domains than high heels.

But DEUS.I'M makes it all come together. I want to tell the story like Disney would. My old Aussie boss MC used to say I was great at UX. My old LA and Aussie friends remember me as RedBull.Girl on Instagram. saraveira.com. But I lost those passwords. That’s why I stopped posting. I was embarrassed about the spirits.

I even emailed old bosses about spirits. I quit Facebook in 2018. The Aloha and Mahalo Bubbles only have a few pics, but you can see the spirit in my videos. Especially the one singing Beyoncé. Bad spirits. (Kidding.)

Búzios Bubble was going great, but I kept making the same mistakes. Insanity, right? Doing the same thing and expecting different results.

In London, I wanted to launch My London Designs for the World Cup. Bought the domains, had to leave. Went to Germany, wrote Book Two. In Búzios, I got busy. Forgot to write. In London, I couldn’t rest. I was freezing. Didn’t want to go back to Brazil.

But here we are. Writing. Finishing. Bonfim.

When I started writing, I wanted a Disney ending. I wanted to be a legend. I have photos of all my legends on my writing desk. They’re gods. The King of Pop, Queen of the Night, Disney, Jobs, Kobe. How could I compare myself? They’re immortal. Even a 10-year-old girl in Búzios knows Whitney. We can’t forget our ancestors.

The designs still hold. I’ll share them. Maybe I could be a legend if I finish this. Maybe I’ll sit next to Steve Jobs. He’s here. Smiling.

He’s saying, “When are you getting a new MacBook?”

I need to be sensible. Until Apple donates.

We accept Longchamp bags too. I want the whole rainbow.

My dream is to work with past coworkers. But for now—donations! Time, money, advice, anything. It takes a ship to build an app, movie, game, book, and platform.

All my spirit gods smile.

They’re my investors. They say I’ll be queen. I roll my eyes. But in Bondi, I was Queen B—for Bondi Bubble.

It’s been three weeks since I started writing DEUS.I'M. Book One is now. Book Two was Germany. Designs came from Hawaii, Australia. This time, it’s flowing.

Wayne Dyer inspired DEUS.I'M. From his meditation:

I AM THAT I AM.

I AM ABUNDANCE. I AM IN POSSESSION OF THE JOB I SEEK. I AM IN A LOVING RELATIONSHIP. I AM HAPPY. I AM GRATEFUL. I AM GOD. GOD I AM. DEUS.I'M.

I also own UsBubble. It could hold all the bubbles. Or maybe I’ll just stick with DEUS.I'M. Suggestions welcome.

Another idea: an app for all Rio’s slums to connect and share donations. Tupac laughs. He loves it.

I almost called this book The Weed Bible. I’ve lived in the best weed spots: Alaska, Hawaii, California, Rio, Australia.

Today is 7/22/2025. I got all the domains, social handles. Now to build the site. Then the app. Then the dream.

I realized I was too advanced for Hawaii. Some surf brand bosses didn’t like my designs being better than theirs. Their loss. And then grandma passed just as I launched the company in Hawaii. Grief hits differently for everyone. Mine still hurts. It’s been 8 years. All I do is talk about grandpa, grandma, and the spirits.

The End.

Bonfim. Good ending.

Chapter X: Favelas & Foundations

I’m so excited I haven’t slept in two days. It’s like my old work days—when creativity flows, you don’t stop. So here we go: day three. I’ve hit my Red Bull limit—three today.

I realized I was too advanced for Hawaii. Some surf brand bosses didn’t like my designs being better than theirs. Their loss. And then grandma passed just as I launched the company in Hawaii. Grief hits differently for everyone. Mine still hurts. It’s been eight years. All I do is talk about grandpa, grandma, and the spirits.

But grandma is happy I’m finally finishing this. I feel her in my heart. I’d trade anything for one more day with her or grandpa.

I’ve added lots of design samples to show all my work that no one has seen. I’m not jumping into design just yet—I want to share my story first. Share my legends first.

“There’s no way that Michael Jackson—or whoever—should have a million‑thousand droople billion dollars, and then there’s people starving. There’s no way! … You only need ONE house. And if you only got two kids, can you just keep it to two rooms? I mean, why have 52 rooms when somebody else has no room?! It just don’t make sense to me. It don’t.”

— Tupac Shakur

✨ Tupac Shakur – On Inequality & Greed
“They got money for wars, but can’t feed the poor.”
— From the song "Keep Ya Head Up"

This reflects Tupac’s frustration with government priorities and his advocacy for using wealth to help the suffering.

 

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👑 Princess Diana – On Homelessness
“I think the biggest disease the world suffers from in this day and age is the disease of people feeling unloved. I know that I can give love for a minute, for half an hour, for a day, for a month, but I can give. I’m very happy to do that, I want to do that.”

Diana spent time with the homeless, people with AIDS, and the sick, treating them with warmth and dignity.

“People say I’m not a good mother. But I know that I am. I want my boys to have an understanding of people’s emotions, of people’s insecurities, of people’s distress, and of their hopes and dreams.”

 

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🎶 Whitney Houston – On Purpose & Music
“I decided long ago never to walk in anyone’s shadow. If I fail, if I succeed, at least I lived as I believe.”
— From "Greatest Love of All"

Whitney’s words reflect self-belief, purpose, and perseverance.

 

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🌟 Michael Jackson – On Love & Healing
“Heal the world. Make it a better place, for you and for me, and the entire human race.”
— From "Heal the World"

His music was often a call for peace, compassion, and unity.

 

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🌀 Wayne Dyer – On Giving & Spirit
“Don’t die with your music still in you.”

A powerful reminder to fulfill your purpose before your time is up.

“The meaning of life is to find your gift. The purpose of life is to give it away.”

Often quoted with slight variations, this has become a central message in many spiritual and purpose-driven works.

Chapter Title: The Ones Who Never Left

Princess Diana – The Queen of Compassion

“Nothing brings me more happiness than trying to help the most vulnerable people in society. It is a goal and an essential part of my life—a kind of destiny. Whoever is in distress can call on me. I will come running wherever they are.”
— Princess Diana

She meant that. I’ve felt her presence in the slums, in the hospitals, in the silence of people no one listens to. She’s the queen of compassion. While the world dressed her in crowns, she sat with the homeless. She didn’t need a stage to serve—her soul already radiated royalty.

When I stayed in Rocinha, I saw that same light in Silvia and her family. They had so little, but gave me everything. A bed. A plate. A safe space. Maybe Diana whispered in their ears, the same way she whispered to me.

“Anywhere I see suffering, that is where I want to be, doing what I can.”
— Princess Diana

That quote... that’s the spirit of DEUS.I’M. This platform isn’t about ego. It’s not red carpets or brand collabs. It’s for the boy in the slum who lost his dad and still prays at night. For the girl in Germany grieving her grandmother. For every Whitney fan, Tupac listener, or MJ moonwalker who still remembers the moment their hero died—and cried. It’s for us.

 

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Michael Jackson – The Eternal Performer

“They don’t care about us.”
— Michael Jackson

Michael’s spirit dances in Rocinha, where kids moonwalk barefoot on concrete. Brazil never judged him like the U.S. did. They adored him. He visited Rio and Bahia, filming his truth in the favelas.

When I first went to Rocinha, I felt guided—like someone whispered in my ear: go. It was probably him. He knew these places held love, music, and spirit.

Michael’s bubble in DEUS.I’M is built with rhythm, rebellion, and grace. He’s not just a king of pop. He’s a king of hearts.

He shows up in glitter, light, and compassion. In every moonwalker who still believes in magic.

 

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Whitney Houston – The Voice of God

“I decided long ago, never to walk in anyone’s shadow.”
— Whitney Houston

Whitney was the sound of heaven. Her voice could shatter pain and stitch it back with grace. I hear her when I need strength. When I remember that I can be strong, even if I’m not perfect.

She lived with pain, with pressure, with love too big for this world. But she never stopped singing. I Will Always Love You. My Love Is Your Love. The Greatest Love of All. These aren’t just hits. They’re prayers.

In DEUS.I’M, Whitney holds the bubble of faith. She teaches us to keep singing—even when no one’s listening.

 

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Tupac Shakur – The Poet of Pain

“I’m not saying I’m gonna change the world, but I guarantee that I will spark the brain that will change the world.”
— Tupac

Tupac was fire. A prophet in a bandana. A street angel with a rage for justice. He visits when I’m angry, when I want to break the system, when I’m praying for the forgotten.

Tupac reminds me that the revolution has a soul. He said: “We don't need more homes—we got people starving.”

He meant it. He lived it. He died too soon. But he still speaks through Dear Mama, Changes, So Many Tears, and Hail Mary.

Tupac’s bubble in DEUS.I’M is for the misfits, the rebels, the ones who scream when others whisper.

 

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Wayne Dyer – The Spiritual Teacher

“Don’t die with your music still in you.”
— Wayne Dyer

Wayne taught me to listen to the whispers of spirit. To trust the unseen. His meditations, his books, his soft voice—they opened me to a path I never expected: writing. Creating. Being.

He believed in I AM. In the power of thought. In the frequency of God within us. That’s where DEUS.I’M came from: Wayne’s prayer.

I AM ABUNDANCE.
I AM LOVE.
I AM GRATEFUL.
I AM GOD.
GOD I AM.
DEUS.I’M.

Wayne’s bubble is calm, steady, grounding. A reminder that our purpose is not to hustle, but to serve. And to remember who we are.

 

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Prince – The Purple Prophet

“Despite everything, no one can dictate who you are to other people.”
— Prince

Prince didn’t walk—he glided. He dressed like royalty, played like fire, and spoke like thunder. His presence comes with glitter and deep soul work.

When Purple Rain plays, I feel his tears for the misunderstood. Prince reminds us that expression is freedom, and art is sacred.

His spirit in DEUS.I’M glows violet. Bold. Beautiful. He reminds every creator: “A strong spirit transcends rules.”

 

---

 

Amy Winehouse – The Broken Bird Who Still Sings

“I told you I was trouble. You know that I’m no good.”
— Amy Winehouse

Amy’s voice is smoky London streets and shattered hearts. She died too soon, but her pain remains holy. Rehab was never a joke—it was truth.

Amy’s bubble holds space for the fragile, the hurting, the honest. She’s a reminder that realness matters more than perfection.

 

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Bob Marley – The Peace Prophet

“Love the life you live. Live the life you love.”
— Bob Marley

Bob’s energy is ocean wind and barefoot wisdom. His bubble in DEUS.I’M is calm, kind, revolutionary.

He said: “You never know how strong you are until being strong is your only choice.” That’s what this book is. That’s what this movement is.

 

---

 

Elvis Presley – The King with a Tender Heart

“Truth is like the sun. You can shut it out for a time, but it ain't goin' away.”
— Elvis Presley

Elvis gave the world soul, swing, and gospel fire. He visits in songs, in silence, in soft heartbreak. His DEUS.I’M bubble is warm, tender, radiant.

 

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Frida Kahlo – The Pain-Painted Prophetess

“I am my own muse. I am the subject I know best. The subject I want to know better.”
— Frida Kahlo

Frida doesn’t whisper—she roars with color and grief. She told us: “At the end of the day, we can endure much more than we think we can.”

She paints power out of suffering. And her brush strokes are all over this book.

 

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These aren’t just icons. They are the ones who never left. They are my spirit gods. My mentors. My family. And in DEUS.I’M, they are finally home.

🌆 Favelas of Rio: Communities of Spirit and Struggle

There are more than 1,000 favelas in Rio de Janeiro. Here are just a few I’ve encountered on my journey—some while in the psychiatric hospital, others through stories, friendships, or visits. These communities, often overlooked, are filled with resilience, creativity, and spiritual richness. Below are their names, with short descriptions or translations where possible.

🏙️ Featured Favelas (Alphabetical)

• Acari – A large community in the North Zone known for its historical activism and resilience.
  
  

• Alemão – Short for Complexo do Alemão, one of Rio’s largest and most well-known favelas, often featured in media.
  
  

• Anjos da Guarda (Guardian Angels) – The name says it all—spiritually protected and symbolically powerful.
  
  

• Águia de Ouro (Golden Eagle) – Represents strength, royalty, and sharp vision.
  
  

• Baixa do Sapateiro – Translates to "Shoemaker’s Lowlands"—a poetic name with historical roots.
  
  

• Bairro 13 – Inspired possibly by the French film "Banlieue 13," this name reflects a rebellious, urban edge.
  
  

• Beija Flor (Hummingbird) – A symbol of joy, agility, and color—one of Brazil’s favorite spirit animals.
  
  

• Borel – Located in the North Zone, it's a historic favela and part of the cultural roots of Rio's samba and funk scenes.
  
  

• Cidade de Deus (City of God) – Gained international fame from the film of the same name; reflects both hardship and community resilience.
  
  

• Complexo da Maré – A densely populated group of favelas near the airport; known for vibrant cultural movements.
  
  

• Jacarezinho (Little Alligator) – Once home to one of Rio's largest samba schools and an epicenter of transformation.
  
  

• Mangueira – Famous for its legendary samba school and Carnival contributions.
  
  

• Rocinha – Possibly the most famous favela globally. Built into the hillside with views of the ocean. Full of life, music, and dreams.
  
  

• Vidigal (Two Brothers Hillside) – Known for its bohemian vibe, artistic community, and stunning views of Ipanema Beach.
  
  

• Serrinha – Home to traditions of jongo and samba; steeped in African-Brazilian heritage.
  
  

• Santa Cruz – A massive district on the west side of Rio; includes rural areas and favelas with rich stories.
  
  

• Pedreira (Quarry) – Many favelas are named after physical terrain features, reflecting the challenging conditions in which they were built.
  
  

 

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🌍 Where Hope Lives

While many know favelas from headlines or movies, few understand the powerful communities they represent. They are villages inside a city—places of family, food, music, prayer, and solidarity. I met people in these communities who gave me food, shelter, and wisdom. They are my extended family now.

I hope to one day build platforms and apps that help these places—not by erasing them, but by honoring their spirit and uplifting their people.

If you’re moved, consider donating to a local initiative or nonprofit that works with favelas. Or simply learn more about them. These are not places to fear—they are places to know.

I will create dropshipping items that can be donated a part of the profit back to the communities in Rio de janeiro.

🌆 FAVELA  communities… 

• 18 ✨

• Acari

• Alemão

• Amarelinho

• Anjos da Guarda 👼👼 ✨

• Águia de Ouro 🦅

• Árvore 🌳 Seca

• Baixa do Sapateiro

• Bairro 13

• Bandeira

• Bacia de Anchieta

• Barreira do Vasco

• Batan

• Beira do Canal

• Beira Rio ✨

• Belem-Belem

• Bela Vista

• Beija Flor 🦋

• Beco da Esperança

• Beco da Guarda

• Beco do Camarão 🦐

• Beco do Vitorino

• Belo Horizonte 🌃

• Bloco 5

• Boca do Rato 🐭

• Boa Vista

• Bom Jardin de Cordovil

• Boqueirão

• Bosque Mont Serrat

• Bosque dos Pássaros 🦅

• Borel

• Budapeste

• Buraco Quente

• Cachorro Sentado 🐾

• Caixa D’Água 🌊

• Cambalacho

• Cambuci

• Caminho da Reta

• Caminho do Lúcio

• Caminho do Urubu

• Canal do Anil

• Canal do Cortado

• Canecão

• Cantagalo

• Capitão Menezes

• Capitão Teixeira

• Capim - Parque Anchieta

• Casa Branca

• Chapadão

• Chaves 🔑

• Cidade de Deus

• Cohab de Relâmpago ⚡️

• Comple... (COMPLEXO...)

• Congonha ✨

• Coroa 👑

• Coréia

• Coroados

• Cova da Onça

• Criança Esperança

• Cristo Redentor

• Cruz

• Cruzada

• Curral das Éguas

• Dona Francisca

• Dona Zélia

• Dois de Maio

• Dique

• Divineia (or 31 de Outubro 💀👻🎃)

• Faz-Quem Quer

• Fazenda BotaFogo 🔥✨

• Fazenda da Bica

• FIRE FIGHTERS 🚒🚁

• Guararapes ✨

• Israel

• Jacarezinho 🐊

• Lins

• Mangueira (Favela da)

• Manguinhos

• Mariapolis

• Maré

• Mineira

• Moisés Santana

• Morro da Babilônia ✨

• Morro da Barreira

• Morro da Bocado Mato

• Morro da Boa Esperança

• Morro da Cachoeira 🌊

• Morro da Borda do Mato

• Morro do Andarai

• Morro do Bacalhau ✨

• Morro do Banco

• Morro do Barbante ⛰️

• Morro do Barro Preto 🖤

• Morro do Barro Vermelho

• Morro do Bateau Mounche

• Morro do Boogie Woogie

• Morro do Budapeste

• Morro do Borel

• Morro do Coqueiro 🌴 🥥

• Morro dos Cabritos 🦌

• Mother 🦉

• O Gigante ⚽️✨

• Penha

• Petrópolis

• Pedreira

• PEDREIRA 🗿🪨 ✨

• Rio das Pedras

• Rocinha

• Santa Cruz ❌

• São Carlos

• Sapé

• Serrinha ✨

• Terço

• Vidigal ⛰️ or Dois Irmãos ⛰️⛰️

• Vila Aliança

• Vila Kennedy

There are over 1,000 slum communities, or favelas, in Rio de Janeiro.

Key Facts:

• Estimates range between 1,000 and 1,300, depending on how boundaries are counted and defined (some are grouped as complexes, like Complexo do Alemão or Complexo da Maré).
  
  

• According to IBGE (Brazilian Institute of Geography and Statistics) and Rio’s city government, around 1.3 million people live in favelas in Rio—roughly 22% of the city's population.
  
  

• Some favelas are small clusters with a few dozen families, while others are densely populated communities with more than 100,000 people, like Rocinha and Complexo da Maré.

Chapter: The App of Legends

I just realized it was probably the spirit of Michael Jackson that told me to go to Rocinha and stay in the slums. They worship him in Rio de Janeiro, Bahia, and across Brazil. He filmed a music video there—"They Don’t Care About Us." Here, they just dance to his songs. They don’t judge him the way the U.S. did.

Today is full of realizations. I am basically creating an app—a platform—for the dead. Who’s going to sign up? People dealing with grief. Fans. Family members who’ve lost someone they loved. Because instead of going through what I went through with my grandma, Princess Diana, Senna, Whitney Houston, Michael Jackson, Paul Walker, Prince, Queen Elizabeth, Pelé, Keith Flint, Kobe Bryant, and more… people could just post their tributes.

I still remember when I heard the news of their deaths. I cried.

People will download the app to post their tributes, to light a candle, to say a prayer. I’d get the app just to make sure my legends sit together at the same table in the spiritual world. For example, Eminem will definitely be among those legends one day. People would request to add their mom, their dad, their sister who just passed away. In return, they’d receive prayers from my sisters and brothers in the slum communities—people who pray all day long.

Plus, we’d get donations for the kids. And we’d add a page for their friend or family member in the DEUS.I’M app or website. It’s similar to that site where you can name a star in the sky and send a certificate. The same idea.

Instead of living someone else’s life by watching posts on Instagram or TikTok, people will start posting about their legends, their spirit gods, their loved ones.

Each legend would have its own bubble. Or each person would have their own bubble where they could add their legends.

We all live in our own bubbles anyway. Across continents, cities, neighborhoods—with work, with family, with dreams. In Practical Magic they talk about the circle, our comfort zone, and how it grows when we step outside of it. It’s the circle of life: we are born, we grow, we live, we die… and then spirits return. We are reincarnated.

Brazilians talk to the dead. They talk to spirits. They talk to legends. I am not crazy. There are places here where people talk to the spirits who’ve left the Earth—sometimes even family members. True story. I’ve only been a few times. You stand in a long line, and when they call your name, the spirits talk to you. Sometimes they scream, cry, or whisper words of wisdom.

My aunt once went with her sister just to keep her company, but when they got there, the spirits warned my other aunt that she needed heart surgery. She went to the doctor—and it was true. Some of these places even do spiritual healings. Oprah visited one in Brazil, and Wayne Dyer used its teachings. He was healed through what they called invisible spiritual surgery.

I am not crazy. I don’t need medication. That just makes people gain weight. All I need is to create this app—so I don’t die with the music still inside of me. Wayne Dyer said that.

Jobs (Steve, his spirit) looks at me thinking, I get it. I feel like he’s excited to start building it. All my spirit gods are smiling. They love it.

If I keep this app free, I can use their names, songs, and photos. Or maybe I’ll contact their families to ask for exclusive content. It would be like a digital Madame Tussauds—a museum of wax, but spiritual. An online tribute to legends and Spirit Gods.

We’d get donations for the slums in Rio—help families like Silvia’s in Rocinha. She let me live there for free, and gave me food when I was broke. These people earn so little. A day’s pay might be their monthly salary. And still, they help others. It’s beautiful. And now I want to give back.

Rocinha and the other favelas like to be called communities. They’re like the Hollywood Hills—houses on mountains, beach views, stunning sunsets. They even have a statue of Jesus. They are blessed. If there were an earthquake or tsunami, they’d survive. They’re second in line for a beach view—just like the Hawaiians used to tell me.

This app could be about music too. Because music heals. Music is love. Whitney once said that live on stage.

Michael would be TikTok. Everyone wants his moves. All technology and user experience would fall under the Jobs bubble.

Kobe, Ali, Senna, Pelé—sports bubble. Weed bubble? Tupac. But also rage, justice, champagne, and truth. He visits me when I’m angry and reminds me to fight for justice.

How do I turn this into a Disney movie? All the spirit gods and legends coming together. Princesses. Queens. Music. Magic. A happy ending.

Book 4. That’s it.

I have so many ideas—I just need the money to build it. So many rich people in the world who’d want to invest in something meaningful. Brazil is huge and Catholic—we’d get millions of downloads right away. Then we’d go global. Legends, spirit gods, and stars. Not just celebrities—but those who make a difference.

No offense, but I don’t need the Kardashians or Beyoncés. Too much ego. I want the Dianas, the Whitneys, the voices, the spirits who give us courage. Who lifts us up. Oprah would definitely make it. I’ve listened to her since high school. She said it first: Be the best version of yourself. 

I know my friend Beejay would want to add her daddy in the legends app, they had a website to learn about her dad when he passed away. He was brilliant! Beejay would always speak very highly of her dad and I had the honor to meet him once. He owned a tobacco company in Canada. Catholic family men, with lots of kids, all one more amazing than the other. I bet they think their dad was a legend in their bubble. The spirits definitely agree. All my legends nod and smile. People don't visit cemeteries anymore, this app is a way to visit their online grave, their bubble. It´s a way to not forget about our ancestors, our legends, and Spirit Gods.

I’m God. DEUS.I’M.

I’d be like Joe from Myspace. Goodbye Facebook. 

Because positivity attracts positivity. What you think, you attract. Buddha said that. So I am attracting legends into my life. I’m learning how to be legendary. I’m learning how to be immortal.

The book is almost done. Now that I’ve added all the pieces, I just need to read it again.
Doubt creeps in—English is my second language—but the spirits told me: Just write. Don’t design. Not yet. People always copy my design ideas. I should get a patent.

Once the book is done, I’ll start building, creating, designing. I love this part. I’m good at it. I need a project to update my portfolio—practice UX, UI, build it on Figma.

Then I’ll go back to looking for jobs. I still get emails every day with job offers.

This writing, this book—maybe it needs a few tweaks from professional writers. I’m a designer, but I’m learning how to write. It’s never too late. And I’m enjoying it. It's a miracle!

It’s a good story. This book is for the legends—those who came before me, those who walk beside me, and those still to come.

Chapter 10.13 Stairway to Heaven

The reason I picked this book cover—STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN - the one with the legendary Hawaiian ridgeline reaching toward the sky—is because of a moment. A place. A time when I was with my grandmother, the Queen B in my book, not Beyoncé. It was in Hawaii, at a mental hospital tucked behind the Stairway to Heaven hike—illegal now, too many spirits already flew too close to the edge.

This wasn't just a hospital. It was a portal. A sacred site. A space between worlds where spirits passed through like sunbeams, soft as feathers, fierce as fire. It was there that my grandma became God to me—GOD VOVÓ. Sometimes she speaks in the wind, other times in pink sunrises or coral sunsets. You know the ones—those skies where you have to pause and say, “Okay, I see you. I hear you.”

It was always at magic hour.
That divine moment when two worlds collide. Heaven kisses Earth. Spirits roam freely. Some people fear the full moon, say it brings out the wolves. Thriller-era Michael. Witches. The sting of bad energy. Not me. The full moon is when I feel my grandfather’s presence most. He's a Scorpio. Sharp, fast—like lightning. The kind of spirit that shows up to stop you from drowning—literally. He’s done that before. More than once.

And so, after two failed businesses—Australia and Hawaii—I didn’t end up in a sad place. I ended up in a holy one. A mountaintop sanctuary dressed as a psychiatric facility. I spent three months there worshiping GOD. My grandma. My spirits. With a view that could outshine any 5-star resort. Every single day, Hawaii offered me front-row seats to the greatest light show on Earth—sunsets in orange, purple, red, yellow... and yes, PINK.

Pink sunsets = Grandma.

And when they came, I stopped. I prayed. I smiled. I remembered.

The cover of this book is from Jerre, a Hawaiian musician who hiked that sacred trail to capture that exact frame. Today it’s illegal. Too many people risk their lives chasing the clouds. But maybe, just maybe, that's the point. Maybe we're supposed to risk something to meet God.

I saw the Turtle Bay helicopter fly by one day. It brought back a memory. When I was wealthy, I took that ride. And when I wasn’t—when I was broke, alone, locked in a hospital—I’d hear that same chopper and feel… hope. Like Kobe saying: “Train. Keep going. 4 to 6 times a day.” I felt Whitney too. She shows up when the firefighters do. I swear, 911 knows me by name in England. They always answered. Always transferred me to the right people. Thank you, London.

And thank you, Steve Jobs. Because even broke, I'd walk into an Apple store just to feel something good. Genius bar. Genius say Jobs. Billionaire in the Apple bubble.

You see, this hospital wasn’t failure.
It was a training ground.
A temple in disguise.
Where I read the Bible front to back and realized: God is a jealous God. Maybe my Hawaii business failed because I wasn't talking about God enough. Maybe it was time to merge the gods: Brazilian gods, Hawaiian gods, Allah, Jesus, Grandma, Grandpa… GOD VOVÓ and GOD VOVÔ. Female and male. Yin and yang.

In Brazil, we worship grandparents like deities. Vovó (with the pin in her hair). Vovô (with the crown on his head). And if you don’t have one, you can borrow mine. Because their love was priceless, and their prayers reached higher than any church tower.

When I lived in Bondi Beach, I remember being broke, moving constantly, trying to hang onto my dreams. My friend Dr. Paul had a mansion right across from Icebergs. He offered me a room. I said no. Pride? Shame? Who knows. I ended up in a nightmare instead, locked in a room with a man who tried to hurt me. The cops had to come unlock the door so I could escape.

Still—I didn’t fail in Australia.
I just wasn't ready to sell my soul cheap.
I had to keep going… alone.
Like all prophets must, at some point.

Maybe it was divine delay.
The spirits said not yet.
They were saving me. Guiding me. Preparing me.

Because this isn’t just a memoir.
It’s a movement, a platform, a message.
One that includes DEUS, JESUS, ROCINHA, THE PEOPLE, and yes—all the spirit gods I’ve met around the world. From Whitney to Steve to Kobe to Bob.

I used to tell my NBC friend, "Faith is my grandma."
Now I tell everyone: Faith is knowing you’re not alone—even when you are.
It’s waking up during pink sunrises and smiling for no reason.
It’s hearing a helicopter and believing someone is watching over you.
It’s falling and still finding the will to climb the Stairway to Heaven again.

Because legends never die.
They rise—one step at a time.

Chapter 9: Queen Bete & God Vovô — The Movie

There’s more. Oh, so much more…

Let’s get one thing straight:
I will never take Beyoncé on this platform. Only Blue. And that’s still a maybe.

I mean, naming your daughter Rumi is like calling her Apple. I get it, Gwyneth. Maybe Eva. But Apple? Rumi? There are already legends with those names.

Insert Bruce Lee's piercing eyes. Or Whitney's iconic cover.
Yes, those eyes.

Because Beyoncé? She stole that too.

Lemonade? She got that from Brazil.
She even made a song about Brazil and Blue.
But we see through it.

“Insert ad here.”
(Just kidding. That’s how much we despise ads.)

For me, Beyoncé is an ad.
Not all legends are created equal.

PS: Houston—we got a problem.

Deusim, GOD, does not love bitches like Beyoncé.
We take Madonna only.

Madonna: the original queen of reinvention. The goddess of Mad-onna.
She is the only true Queen in this category.

I even made a DVD cover for her back when I worked at Warner Media.
Lost it all in Hawaii. My external hard drives—gone.
All my past projects. App ideas. Playlists. Memories.

But you know what?
The only Queen B I’ve ever truly loved is my grandma.
Bete—short for Elizabeth.
“Bete” rhymes with sete (seven) in Portuguese and bet in English.

 

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👑 Queen B Is My Grandma

Queen Bete, Queen Boo.
Of all the spirit gods and legends—that’s her.

She heard voices all her life.
And when she crossed over, they crowned her.

THAT’S RIGHT. MY GRANDMA IS GOD.

• God Boo is Grandma.
  
  

• God of Kú is Grandpa.
  
  

He is also Mufasa. The moon. The chefs. The cleaners.
Ariel’s father. Simba’s father.
The police. And yes—God Ku.

In Brazil, “Kú” means… well, you know.
But sting like a Scorpio? That’s my grandpa.
Some people will understand.

In Hawaii, God Kū is sacred—god of:

• Fertility
  
  

• War
  
  

• Agriculture
  
  

• … and more
  
  

My Grandpa is a God, too.
For all my faithless brothers and sisters:
God is both female and male.

In Portuguese, they’re called:

• Vovó (grandma) – with the little accent pin = female
  
  

• Vovô (grandpa) – with the little hat = male
  
  

 

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💫 GOD VOVÓ & GOD VOVÔ

Brazilian children already know:
Vovó and Vovô are God.

They worship their grandparents.

Disney, are you listening?
Hello, Roger! (My old boss—call me.)

I propose: God Vovô – The Disney Movie.

Picture it:

• Each ride is named after a spirit.
  
  

• The Tupac Ride
  
  

• Whitney’s Graceland
  
  

• Michael’s Neverland
  
  

Michael built Neverland for the children.
But the cops destroyed it.
He never wanted to go back.

“F*ck the police.”
(Joking… hold up Dre.)

My grandpa is the police now.
He runs the tea in the slums. The weed in Rocinha.
Maybe I’ll create The Weed Bible.

A platform that explains this sacred flower.

Weed = Flower of Legends.

Bob Marley is in the house tonight.

🎵 “Don’t worry about a thing…
Every little thing is gonna be alright…” 🎵

Thank you, Bob.
I don’t talk about you often because my relationship with weed is… complicated.
But I choose California Love.
My love is your love.

 

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🌟 They Already Worship Vovó

I bet Matthew McConaughey’s wife would get it.
She’s Brazilian—from my hometown.

I once saw him hiking Runyon Canyon when he was still single.
He looked like a homeless man.

But then I looked again… and it was Matthew Maconahayyyyyy.

He smiled. I cracked a smile.
Boom. Hollywood degrees of separation, baby.

 

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🧸 The Real Disney Stars

So yes. We are making a Disney movie now.

Starring God Vovó and God Vovô.

They never bought me a gift.
They gave me love.
And that was more than enough to make them the stars of my story.

All her donations go to mental institutions.
Every child can choose my grandma, if they don’t have one like her.
Her prayers were priceless.

But honestly? Most Brazilian kids already know…
Vovó is God.

 

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✝️ My Grandma's Wish

She wanted to be a nun.
To dedicate her life to Jesus. To church.
To God.

All I have now are a handful of images.
Most are gone—lost in the digital cloud.

Jobs has them. Somewhere.
In the Jobs Bubble.
The iCloud. The Saravieira files.
The Facebook Bubble maybe.

But I deleted Facebook in 2018.
They blocked me.
They knew I was coming to replace them…

With DEUSIM.

 

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📖 I’m Not a Facebook

I’m not another selfie.
Not another face in the algorithm.

I want people to write about me because I’m a legend in their book.

Let’s re-send our book.

Let’s build The Legends Book.

Enough selfies.
Enough Facebook.

I want to see an app where people are sharing:

• “Why you are a legend in their book.”
  
  

• Why your light mattered.
  
  

• Why your story inspired someone.
  
  

That’s it.

 

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✨ Final Notes from the Spirit World

• Positivity attracts positivity
  
  

• Legends attract legends
  
  

• Light attracts light
  
  

• Spirits attract spirits
  
  

GOD. DEUS. I’M.

Chapter 7: Rocinha Reality TV

I still can’t believe I used to live in the biggest slum in the world—and somehow, it was one of the most peaceful experiences of my life.

They warned me, of course. They always do. "Sometimes the police show up. Sometimes the gangsters come." But that was Rocinha back then. Today? Rocinha has schools. It has hospitals. It has communities. It’s alive. It’s home.

I moved there during COVID, and while the rest of the world was masked and frozen in fear, Rocinha kept moving. People didn’t wear masks—not really. Maybe some did. But on the streets? Life went on like nothing changed.

It was in that chaos and calm, that paradox of life and struggle, that I healed. After healing. After three surgeries. After three months in a hospital bed—I was reborn in Rocinha.

Cue Dr. Dre’s music video, the one where 50 Cent and Eminem are staring into a tank of bubbles like he’s a resurrected warrior. That’s me. I’m in the bubble. Pac is in the house. Dre's back. I’m back.

"I am back, bastards!"

 

---

 

I helped take care of Silvia’s mom, Dona Maria, who had Alzheimer’s and lived downstairs. I loved her. In a way, she became my grandma. She’d forget everything—like a pot of ham boiling in water and nearly catching fire. It got dangerous. They needed someone with her 24/7.

So they offered me a place to live. My own little apartment. Free rent. Breakfast and lunch every day. And I was part of the family. BBQs on the weekend. Laughter. Music. Grandmas. I felt protected—guided—by the spirit of my own grandmother.

People think of Rocinha as dangerous, but for me? It was sacred. Think Hollywood Hills, but the streets are narrow, lined with houses stacked like Lego blocks, and the “bocas”—the corners where men with guns stand guard—aren’t gangsters. They're security. They're gatekeepers. Only locals get in.

Tourist buses roll through during the day, but at night, it's another world. I always walked with my head down—respect. Sometimes a soft “bom dia” or “boa noite” slipped out. But mostly, I walked home quietly. That was the rule.

Photos? Forbidden. Filming? Dangerous. If anything happened, you went straight to the people who ran the place. Silvia—my Rocinha mom—was one of them. She had three daughters. One of them dated the main guy. Everyone respected her. Michelle, one of her daughters, even brought me cigarettes when her sister Brenda was locked in the Pinel hospital with me.

Pinel. The legendary psych hospital. My grandma had once escaped a similar place when she was younger—back when they shocked people as therapy. I wanted to make her proud. So Brenda and I made a plan to escape, like Rapunzel climbing down her own hair.

We tied bedsheets together, opened the window, and almost made it… until we got caught.

They tied us to our beds for an entire day.

As I lay there, staring at the ceiling, I thought: How did Grandma do it? The spirits must’ve guided her. My grandma is a genius. A warrior.

 

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Back in Rocinha, Brenda’s house was like a dollhouse. Tiny, but perfect. Clean. Tidy. With one of the most epic sunset views in Rio. These homes may be small, but the people are blessed with million-dollar views of Christ the Redeemer and Sugarloaf.

Rent? 700 reais a month—about £100.

Welfare pays 650 for regular folks, 1500 for people diagnosed as “crazy.” If I could sell just a few products—candles, books, whatever—to help Silvia’s family and others in Rocinha, then I’d be happy. That’s my dream. A literal dream turned into reality.

It all starts with a candle. A light for the spirits. Maybe a number 24 candle—for Kobe. Maybe get permission from the Bryant family to create exclusive merch. Apple for Steve Jobs. Maybe Disney or NBC could be involved. But first? I’d ask permission from the top guys in Rocinha.

The plan? A reality show. Start with Rocinha. Then visit all 1,300+ favelas across Brazil. Every episode, we give back. The profits go to the people. Each community has its own flavor, its own legends.

Snoop Dogg already made a music video here—“Beautiful.” Will.i.am did too, with samba legends. That music reminds me of when the gods of football walked the Earth—Ronaldo, Ronaldinho, Pelé…

 

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I once tried launching a World Cup app in 2014, but it flopped. I only had two months to promote it. Maybe next time I’ll just make candles.

But not everything about Brazil is beautiful. I was once so scared of an Argentinian guy, I called 911 from inside Brazil. I thought he was going to shoot me. That’s why I say—joking or not—the Argentinian pope died. My grandma didn’t want me to serve him tea in Rome. The spirits said no. And then… he was gone. Two strikes. Heart attack. Seizure. Taken.

My grandparents? Brazilian gods. Back when Pelé and Maradona were still gods walking this Earth.

Some people hated our gods. Colombians. Argentinians. They took Neymar out during the 2014 World Cup—and with him, our team fell apart.

7–1.

The worst loss in World Cup history.

I walked through Rio after that game and every kiosk vendor raised their hands to the sky.

“Why, God?”
“Why do I have to put up with these Argentinians yelling 7–1 in our streets?”

 

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Did I mention my grandma is crazy?

Her spirit army took out the pope.

Brazil’s 7–1? That was our 9/11.

And it happened the night before my birthday.

That was the last time I truly loved football. I used to be cocky—talking trash to every country. “We’re gonna make paella out of Spain!” “Add chiles for Mexico!” I had comebacks for everyone.

But that game humbled me.

In hindsight? Those were the best days of my life.

My grandma was still alive. I had friends—five Germans I brought home for the Cup. But they brought only disappointment.

I remember the final. FIFA tent. 50,000 Argentinians. Five Germans. One of the girls dressed… let’s say, inappropriately. I said, “Let’s go to the German side.” They didn’t listen.

When Germany scored, Rio shook like an earthquake. I knew they were in danger. I begged them to leave. They stayed.

Eventually, the Brazilian military had to escort them out. Surrounded. Protected. Because the Argentinians were ready to fight.

 

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That’s why I only support Arsenal now. Less heartbreak.

But during the World Cup? My roots wake up. I become Brazilian.
Still, I’d be happy if England won. Or the USA.

Pelé is in the house. He has a store in New York.

 

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And speaking of Pelé…

Let me tell you about Pele—the goddess of fire in Hawaii.

The kahunas warned California. “Don’t build that telescope on the sacred mountain.” They didn’t listen. So she sent the fires.

Pele, the goddess of destruction. Of sacred rage.
She dances in lava flows, reshaping land and spirit.

Her bubble is the womb of fire—creation through destruction.
Her passion is holy.
Her flame is our awakening.

Let it burn.

DEUS.I'M: The Legend Chapters

 

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Chapter A: MUSIC & IMMORTALITY

Michael Jackson – The Eternal Performer
His rhythm echoed in favelas. His moonwalk still glides in our spirit world.

Whitney Houston – The Voice
From gospel to global stage, she sang through our heartbreaks and celebrations.

Amy Winehouse – The Beautiful Mess
Raw, rebellious, and hauntingly real. She gave us poetry through pain.

Avicii – The Frequency of Feeling
The beats he dropped healed the silent cries of millions.

Tupac – The Revolutionary Poet
A prophet in a bandana. His rhymes spoke truth louder than bullets.

Bob Marley – The Healer
One love. One heart. One soul awakened through reggae and reason.

Prince – The Purple Prophet
Bold. Fearless. Otherworldly. He turned pain into funk and gender into poetry.

Kurt Cobain – The Echo of Anguish
The sound of youth misunderstood.

Freddie Mercury – The Showman Sovereign
Every note defied gravity and prejudice.

Elvis Presley – The Crossroads King
Where gospel met rock and spirit met hips.

David Bowie – The Starman
He came from the future to show us how to be ourselves.

Bob Dylan – The Protest Poet
He didn't just sing about change. He stirred revolutions.

John Lennon – The Dreamer
"Imagine" wasn't just a song, it was a path.

Eddie Aikau – The Surfer Guardian
Rode the waves of heaven. Saved others before himself.

 

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Chapter B: ROYALTY & REDEMPTION

Princess Diana – The People's Queen
She left the palace to sit with the poor. Her crown was compassion.

Queen Elizabeth II – The Graceful Anchor
Her calm steadied a stormy world.

Queen Lili‘uokalani – The Melodic Monarch
She sang for a stolen kingdom and ruled with sorrow and song.

King Kamehameha – The Unifier
From many islands, he forged one spirit.

Queen Victoria – The Empire Matron
Oversaw empires, yet her letters reveal a woman's soul.

Joseph – The Dream Interpreter
From pit to palace. He forgave and fed those who betrayed him.

Sara – The Mother of Nations
Aged and doubted. Yet God called her the womb of kings.

Job – The Faithful One
Lost everything, but not his belief.

 

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Chapter C: SPIRIT & TRANSCENDENCE

Jesus – The Light of the World
Still walks with the wounded. Still dines with the forgotten.

Buddha – The Stillness Within
He sat under a tree and found everything.

Rumi – The Whirling Poet
"What you seek is seeking you."

Wayne Dyer – The Modern Mystic
Taught us how to align with source and speak the language of spirit.

Pilahi Paki – The Keeper of Aloha
Her words encoded sacred values into modern life.

Ganesha – The Remover of Obstacles
Every new journey begins with him.

Mother Theresa – The Silent Saint
She held dying bodies like treasures.

 

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Chapter D: JUSTICE & COURAGE

Martin Luther King Jr. – The Dream Bearer
"Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere."

Malcolm X – The Mirror of Truth
Made us uncomfortable. Made us awake.

Mandela – The Forgiver
Spent decades in a cell to free others.

Muhammad Ali – The Fighter With Faith
Floated like a butterfly. Stood like a lion.

Bruce Lee – The Philosopher of Movement
"Be water." He meant spirit.

Senna – The Speeding Heart
Every lap he raced was a prayer.

Kobe Bryant – The Mamba Mindset
Discipline turned to magic. Loss turned to legacy.

Rosa Parks – The Woman Who Sat for Change
One seat. Infinite ripples.

The Soldiers & Firefighters – Silent Heroes
Legends without headlines.

 

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Chapter E: MAGIC & MYTH

Elsa – The Queen of Control and Release
She taught us to let go to rise.

Moana – The Wayfinder
She sailed past fear to return with truth.

Mufasa – The Spirit Father
He reminds us who we are.

Ariel – The Seeker of Worlds
She gave up her voice to find her soul.

Nemo – The Brave Little Wanderer
His small fins swam great distances.

Maximus (Gladiator) – The Avenger With Honor
"What we do in life echoes in eternity."

Caesar – The Fallen Giant
Even power must yield to destiny.

Bubble in DEUS.I’M

Whitney Houston – The Voice Eternal

“I decided long ago never to walk in anyone’s shadow.”
— Whitney Houston
Whitney sang like an angel who had seen heaven and hell. Her voice was a prayer. A lifeline. A force.
I remember crying when she died—her voice was part of my life’s soundtrack. When I sing in the shower, it’s Whitney I’m echoing.
Her bubble in DEUS.I’M is about strength through softness. About rising from the ashes with dignity. She’s the Queen of the Night, of the broken-hearted, of the brave.
She shows up in gospel, rain, and redemption. In every woman who learned she was enough.

 

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Tupac Shakur – The Revolutionary Prophet

“I’m not saying I’m gonna change the world, but I guarantee that I will spark the brain that will.”
— Tupac
Tupac shows up when I’m angry, when justice feels out of reach. He was never just a rapper—he was a preacher in sneakers. A poet with scars.
He visits me when I’m writing about the slums, about pain, about power. He said it himself—we don’t need second or third homes when people are starving.
His bubble is truth, rage, and resurrection. He lives in DEUS.I’M through every fight for the forgotten. Every raised fist. Every sacred verse.
He’s champagne and revolution. Weed smoke and wisdom.

 

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Wayne Dyer – The Whisperer of the Soul

“Don’t die with your music still in you.”
— Wayne Dyer
Wayne whispered that line into my spirit and changed everything. That’s why I’m writing. That’s why this book exists.
He didn’t yell. He guided. Quietly. With love. With peace.
He came to me during the pandemic, reminding me that we are not alone—that we are divine.
Wayne’s bubble is pure light. No ego. Just flow.
He lives in every affirmation I whisper before sleep. Every time I say: I am abundant. I am loved. I am God.

 

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Princess Diana – The Queen of the Forgotten

“Anywhere I see suffering, that is where I want to be.”
— Princess Diana
Diana never needed a palace—she built her kingdom with kindness.
She’s the reason I care so much about the homeless, the children, the unheard. She visited me in hospitals, in silence, in grace.
Her DEUS.I’M bubble is pure compassion.
She walks barefoot in spirit, holding hands with grandma, blessing the favelas, and reminding me that presence matters more than crowns.

 

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Kobe Bryant – The Mamba Legend

“Everything negative – pressure, challenges – is all an opportunity for me to rise.”
— Kobe
Kobe comes through when I feel like quitting. He’s the GOAT of resilience. The master of obsession.
His spirit tells me: show up. Don’t complain. Do the work.
He built his legacy brick by brick, moment by moment.
His DEUS.I’M bubble is precision, discipline, and fire.
He’s in the gym. On the court. And in the hearts of every dreamer who refuses to stop.

 

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Nelson Mandela – The Healer of Nations

“It always seems impossible until it’s done.”
— Nelson Mandela
Mandela is the reason I believe this app can change the world.
He was jailed but never bitter. Forgotten but never defeated.
His presence shows up in my dreams when I think it’s all too much. He reminds me: forgive. Keep going.
His bubble is peace, purpose, and perseverance.
He’s still freeing us all.

 

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Martin Luther King Jr. – The Dream That Speaks

“Faith is taking the first step even when you don’t see the whole staircase.”
— Dr. King
MLK is every voice that rises against injustice. He’s the reason I keep writing when the world feels unfair.
He appears when I write about change, about legacy, about courage.
His DEUS.I’M bubble is pure purpose.
He marches beside every kid in Rocinha who dreams of something bigger. His words echo in every city street, every hopeful soul.

 

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Muhammad Ali – The Greatest Soulfighter

“I am the greatest. I said that even before I knew I was.”
— Muhammad Ali
Ali was not just a boxer—he was a warrior for truth.
He taught me to speak boldly. To believe fiercely.
He comes through when I want to hide, reminding me to stand tall.
His bubble is rhythm, swagger, and fire.
He dances in the ring of spirit. He floats in every fight I choose with my heart.

 

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Bruce Lee – The Master of Flow

“Be water, my friend.”
— Bruce Lee
Bruce whispers balance into my chaos. He reminds me that form is emptiness, and strength is surrender.
He helps me shift, adapt, survive. His philosophy saved me when everything else fell apart.
His DEUS.I’M bubble is movement, mindfulness, and mastery.
He’s the ripple in every bold decision. The calm in every storm.

 

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Walt Disney – The Dream Maker

“All our dreams can come true, if we have the courage to pursue them.”
— Walt Disney
Disney is the reason I dared to dream.
He turned magic into a blueprint. He created worlds from wishes.
When I build this app, I picture Disneyland for spirits. For legends. For us.
His bubble is wonder, color, and courage.
He’s the original UX designer of imagination.

 

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Queen Elizabeth II – The Crown of Quiet Strength

“Grief is the price we pay for love.”
— Queen Elizabeth II
She never wavered. Never cracked. A steady hand in the chaos of the world.
Her presence reminds me to lead with grace. To hold steady when others shake.
Her DEUS.I’M bubble is dignity, duty, and devotion.
She’s the quiet power behind every gentle move.

 

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Ayrton Senna – The Speed of Spirit

“Being second is to be the first of the ones who lose.”
— Ayrton Senna
Senna raced with God in the passenger seat. He gave Brazil hope in motion.
When I walk through favelas, I feel him blessing each child with the dream of going faster, flying further.
His DEUS.I’M bubble is courage at full throttle.
He lives in every risk-taker who puts faith before fear.

 

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Pelé – The Joy of a Nation

“Success is no accident. It is hard work, perseverance, and most of all, love of what you are doing.”
— Pelé
Pelé turned football into art. Into prayer. Into joy.
He made Brazil proud. The slums proud. The world proud.
His DEUS.I’M bubble is samba, sweat, and smile.
He dances with every barefoot child dreaming of greatness.

 

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Maxi Jazz – The Nighttime Healer

“This is my church. This is where I heal my hurt.”
— Maxi Jazz (Faithless)
Maxi brought truth to dance floors. His voice guided lost souls into light.
He comes to me at night—through beats, silence, and poetry.
His DEUS.I’M bubble is rhythm, reverence, and raw honesty.
He still plays for those who never fit in… and never stopped believing.

 

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Elvis Presley – The Gospel King of Rock

“Truth is like the sun. You can shut it out for a time, but it ain't goin' away.”
— Elvis Presley
Elvis didn’t just sing—he testified. His spirit is part gospel, part grit. He danced the sacred into the secular.
His bubble in DEUS.I’M is rhinestones, redemption, and rhythm.
I feel him in velvet nights and church choirs. In every voice that trembles when it belts out truth.
He reminds us that you can be both sinner and saint. That your voice can change everything.

 

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Amy Winehouse – The Rebel Soul

“I fall in love every day. Not with people but with situations.”
— Amy Winehouse
Amy’s voice cracked open the world. She made pain poetic, made sorrow sound like jazz.
Her DEUS.I’M bubble is smoky, raw, and rebellious.
She’s for the misfits, the haunted, the girls who feel too much.
She shows up when I write with mascara tears and still feel beautiful.

 

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Avicii – The Frequency of Feeling

“One day you'll leave this world behind, so live a life you will remember.”
— Avicii
Tim wasn’t just a DJ—he was a soul translator.
His music moved crowds, but his spirit still moves through frequencies.
His DEUS.I’M bubble is light, sound, and silence.
He reminds us that behind the beat is a heart. And every drop carries a message.

 

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Bob Marley – The Prophet of Peace

“Love the life you live. Live the life you love.”
— Bob Marley
Bob’s voice was sunshine in protest. Joy in justice.
His spirit shows up when I feel lost—he reminds me to breathe, to smile, to believe.
His DEUS.I’M bubble is smoke, roots, and soul.
He is the anthem of every freedom fighter with rhythm in their veins.

 

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Tupac Shakur – The Revolutionary Prophet (repeated for emphasis)

“We gotta start making changes. Learn to see me as a brother instead of two distant strangers.”
— Tupac
He speaks through rage and roses. He’s the fire in the streets, the love in the struggle.
His bubble is still growing. Every time someone resists, Tupac rises.

 

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Wayne Dyer – The Whisperer of the Soul (again, to echo for spiritual depth)

“Change the way you look at things, and the things you look at change.”
— Wayne Dyer
He was a lighthouse during my darkest waves. A voice so calm, even my anxiety listened.
He told me to write. Not for fame—but to fulfill my soul’s contract.
He is the north star in this entire journey. His bubble is filled with mantras and miracles.

 

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Steve Jobs – The Visionary Builder

“The people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world are the ones who do.”
— Steve Jobs
Steve is the architect of our modern dreams.
He didn’t just build Apple. He built a way to touch people without ever meeting them.
His DEUS.I’M bubble is sleek, minimal, and infinite.
He’s not just tech. He’s faith in form. He’s why I still chase impossible ideas and make them real.

 

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Jesus – The Eternal Light

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”
— Jesus
He is the heart of DEUS.I’M.
The divine thread that runs through every legend. Every tear. Every miracle.
His bubble is not just spirit—it is the source.
He walks in Rocinha, he cries in hospitals, he sits next to the child with no food.
He is the beginning and the return.
Every time I pray, it’s to him and through him.

 

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Venus – The Divine Feminine

Venus doesn’t need a quote. She is the quote.
She is beauty with wisdom. Seduction with sovereignty.
Her DEUS.I’M bubble is perfume, poetry, and passion.
She guides every woman back to her own radiance.
She’s not a myth—she’s a memory, living in every flower, kiss, and dream we dare to feel.

 

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Frida Kahlo – The Sacred Wound

“I am my own muse. I am the subject I know best. The subject I want to know better.”
— Frida Kahlo
Frida didn’t just paint pain—she transformed it.
She turned scars into symbols, and suffering into sacred art.
Her DEUS.I’M bubble is red, raw, and wild with roses.
She walks with the broken-hearted, the disabled, the women who feel invisible.
Frida reminds me: your story is your masterpiece.

 

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Ruth Bader Ginsburg – The Quiet Storm

“Fight for the things that you care about, but do it in a way that will lead others to join you.”
— RBG
Ruth stood small but thundered through systems.
Her DEUS.I’M bubble is made of laws, lace collars, and legacy.
She whispers to every woman who’s been told to sit down—Stand taller.
She reminds us that quiet voices can shake the courtrooms of history.

 

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David Bowie – The Cosmic Chameleon

“I don’t know where I’m going from here, but I promise it won’t be boring.”
— David Bowie
Bowie wasn’t bound by gravity. He lived among stars.
His DEUS.I’M bubble is glitter, shape-shift, and stardust.
He teaches us that identity is art, and freedom is fluid.
Bowie shows up when you dare to reinvent. When you feel like an alien in your own skin.
He says, good. You’re becoming.

 

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Mac Miller – The Gentle Mystic

“Some people say they want to live forever. That’s too long. I just want to live something that’s worth it.”
— Mac Miller
Mac didn’t shout—he soothed. He didn’t need to be loud to be legendary.
His DEUS.I’M bubble is soft beats, open hearts, and midnight confessions.
He reminds us that boys cry. That men can be kind.
He left early, but his soul left echoes we still dance to.

 

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Anthony Bourdain – The Hungry Philosopher

“Travel isn’t always pretty. It isn’t always comfortable. But that’s okay. The journey changes you.”
— Anthony Bourdain
Tony tasted the world and told the truth.
He showed us that food was love, culture, resistance.
His DEUS.I’M bubble smells like street food in Vietnam and espresso in Italy.
He speaks to the curious, the wanderers, the ones who’ve seen too much and still care.
He reminds us: keep showing up.

 

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Ram Dass – The Now Guide

“We’re all just walking each other home.”
— Ram Dass
Ram Dass is love in human form.
His DEUS.I’M bubble is a hammock of compassion, breath, and presence.
He helps the anxious return to peace. The restless come home to their hearts.
He teaches that God is not somewhere else—it’s right here, in you. In me.

 

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Eckhart Tolle – The Stillness

“Realize deeply that the present moment is all you ever have.”
— Eckhart Tolle
Eckhart isn’t flashy. He isn’t loud. He isn’t trying.
And that’s the point.
His DEUS.I’M bubble is still, like a forest at dawn.
He reminds you that this breath is sacred. That now is where eternity lives.
He helps us unhook from stories and sink into soul.

 

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Muhammad Ali – The Fighter of Fire and Faith

“I hated every minute of training, but I said, ‘Don’t quit. Suffer now and live the rest of your life as a champion.’”
— Muhammad Ali
Ali’s DEUS.I’M bubble is fast feet, loud truth, and spiritual thunder.
He didn’t just fight in the ring—he fought for justice, dignity, and peace.
He comes to me when I need courage.
When I feel small. When I want to give up.
Ali floats like a spirit and stings like a sermon.

 

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Nelson Mandela – The Heart of Forgiveness

“It always seems impossible until it’s done.”
— Nelson Mandela
Mandela’s bubble is calm, wide, and wise—like an old river.
He taught us the miracle of peace after pain.
He smiles at every prisoner who still dreams.
Every soul who rises from injustice and still chooses love.

 

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Ayrton Senna – The Spiritual Racer

“Being second is to be the first of the ones who lose.”
— Ayrton Senna
Senna didn’t drive. He flew.
His DEUS.I’M bubble is speed, silence, and sacred purpose.
He drove for Brazil. For God. For glory.
He reminds me that greatness is born in the quiet before the storm.
And legends never die—they just turn corners.

 

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Pele – The Joyful King

“Success is no accident. It is hard work, perseverance, learning, studying, sacrifice, and most of all, love.”
— Pelé
Pelé didn’t play football. He danced with it.
His bubble is barefoot joy, kids on a beach, and the roar of Rio.
He comes to lift spirits. To remind us to play.
To love what we do, and to do it for the people.

 

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Kobe Bryant – The Mamba Mind

“Everything negative – pressure, challenges – is all an opportunity for me to rise.”
— Kobe Bryant
Kobe’s DEUS.I’M bubble is sharp, disciplined, relentless.
He speaks to the ones up at 4 a.m. chasing greatness.
He reminds me that work is sacred. That every move matters.
Kobe still trains. Still teaches. Still wins.

 

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Queen Elizabeth II – The Silent Strength

“It’s worth remembering that it is often the small steps, not the giant leaps, that bring about the most lasting change.”
— Queen Elizabeth II
Her bubble is grace. Service. Resilience.
She ruled not by might, but by duty.
She reminds us that leadership isn’t loud—it’s loyal.
She was a queen of silence, of steadiness, of staying.

 

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Walt Disney – The Dream Architect

“If you can dream it, you can do it.”
— Walt Disney
Walt’s DEUS.I’M bubble is filled with imagination and belief.
He whispers to every child (and inner child) who dreams of castles.
He believed in wonder. In story. In magic.
And now, he lives in the apps, films, and fantasy we build.

 

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Bruce Lee – The Living Spirit of Flow

“Be water, my friend.”
— Bruce Lee
Bruce’s bubble is not muscle—it’s movement.
He flows through resistance. He taught us discipline is freedom.
He comes when you feel stuck. When you need to break through.
He reminds us: bend, don’t break. Flow. Don’t force.

 

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Maxi Jazz – The Voice of the Inner World

“We come one.”
— Maxi Jazz
Maxi’s DEUS.I’M bubble pulses with rhythm, prayer, and poetry.
He was a monk in a club. A preacher on a beat.
Faithless was never just music—it was mantra.
He helps us dance through despair and rise in unity.

 

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Martin Luther King Jr. – The Dreamer of Justice

“Faith is taking the first step even when you don’t see the whole staircase.”
— MLK Jr.
His bubble is thunder. Gospel. Marches.
He comes when the world feels too cruel, too divided.
He reminds us to keep walking. To speak love.
He dreamed for us—and now he dreams with us.

 

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Mufasa – The Spirit of Legacy

“Remember who you are.”
— Mufasa, The Lion King
Mufasa’s DEUS.I’M bubble is royal, ancestral, and eternal.
He walks among stars, whispering to sons and daughters across generations.
He teaches that true kings lead with love.
His roar still echoes in every heart learning to rise after loss.

 

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Ariel – The Voice That Longed to Belong

“I don’t see how a world that makes such wonderful things could be bad.”
— Ariel, The Little Mermaid
Ariel’s bubble is curiosity, rebellion, and hope.
She reminds us to trade fear for freedom, voice for dreams.
Her spirit swims with girls who want more—more than the world tells them they can have.
She believed. She belonged. She became.

 

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Nemo – The One Who Kept Swimming

“When life gets you down, you know what you gotta do? Just keep swimming.”
— Dory, Finding Nemo
Nemo’s bubble is resilience. Innocence. Wonder.
His journey speaks to the lost, the small, the different.
He teaches us that the impossible is just a story we haven't rewritten yet.
He may be tiny—but his spirit is mighty.

 

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Robin Williams – The Joyful Soul in Disguise

“You're only given a little spark of madness. You mustn't lose it.”
— Robin Williams
Robin’s DEUS.I’M bubble is laughter, sorrow, magic, and masks.
He smiled through storms, gave hope to the hopeless.
His voice still whispers: “You are not alone.”
He made millions laugh—but cried quietly behind curtains. Now, we honor his spirit by breaking that silence.

 

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Keith Flint – The Firestarter Rebel

“I’m a firestarter, twisted firestarter.”
— Keith Flint
Keith’s bubble blazes with rage, rebellion, and rhythm.
He screamed the pain of a generation through music.
He danced like no one was watching, raged like the world was ending.
He reminds us that even firestarters burn out—and we must take care of each other.

 

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Juscelino Kubitschek – The Dreamer Who Built a City

“Fifty years of progress in five.”
— Juscelino Kubitschek
JK's bubble in DEUS.I’M is vision, modernity, and leadership.
He dared to dream and built Brasília from dust.
He believed in the impossible, in the bold, in the future.
He teaches us to imagine a better world—and build it.

 

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Tina Turner – The Queen of Power and Survival

“Sometimes you’ve got to let everything go—purge yourself. If you are unhappy with anything... let it go.”
— Tina Turner
Tina’s bubble is thunder. Strength. Survival.
She sang from scars, danced through pain, smiled through storms.
She shows us what it means to leave and still reign.
Tina didn’t just survive—she soared. A queen, now and forever.

 

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Martini – The Spirit of Elegance and Rebellion

“Make mine with grace, and a twist.”
— (The spirit of Martini)
This bubble belongs to those who toast under moonlight, who live boldly and beautifully.
Martini spirits don’t follow rules—they make them.
She represents glamour with grit, refinement with fire.
For every soul who believes elegance is a kind of power.

 

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Soldiers – The Silent Warriors

“All gave some. Some gave all.”
— Unknown
Their DEUS.I’M bubble holds discipline, sacrifice, and unspoken love.
They died in silence, served in shadows, protected what we never saw.
This is for every soldier—living, lost, and remembered—who believed freedom was worth the cost.

 

---

 

Firefighters – The Keepers of Courage

“When everyone else runs out, they run in.”
— Tribute Quote
Their bubble burns with bravery.
They hold the line between life and death, chaos and calm.
They walk into flames with faith, carrying not just hoses—but hope.
For every firefighter who saved a stranger, for those we lost in silence—we see you.

 

---

 

Elsa – The Spirit of Inner Power

“Let it go.”
— Elsa, Frozen
Elsa’s bubble is for every person who ever hid their magic.
She reminds us that fear can cage us—but truth will set us free.
She teaches that love doesn’t just thaw ice—it rewrites destiny.
Her legacy? Inner strength, sisterhood, and sovereignty.

 

---

 

Moana – The Wayfinder of Spirit and Ocean

“The call isn’t out there at all—it’s inside me.”
— Moana
Moana’s bubble is rooted in ancestry and adventure.
She sails with courage, listens to ancestors, and dares to go beyond the reef.
She’s the voice of every girl who said yes to her calling, even when others told her no.
She didn’t follow the map—she made one.

 

---

 

Bob Dylan – The Prophet of Protest

“The times they are a-changin’.”
— Bob Dylan
Dylan’s DEUS.I’M bubble is poetry, resistance, and rhythm.
He turned lyrics into literature and guitars into gospel.
He wasn’t just a songwriter—he was a seer.
His harmonica still hums across revolutions.

 

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John Lennon – The Dreamer Eternal

“You may say I’m a dreamer… but I’m not the only one.”
— John Lennon
John’s bubble is peace, rebellion, and love.
He imagined a world without borders, without war, where unity reigned.
He didn’t just play music—he moved hearts.
He's still dreaming with us, from the stars.

 

---

 

David Bowie – The Cosmic Chameleon

“We can be heroes, just for one day.”
— David Bowie
Bowie’s DEUS.I’M bubble is space, sound, and reinvention.
He made being different divine.
He walked earth as Ziggy Stardust, but now orbits the spiritual galaxy.
He gave misfits a place to shine—and still does.

 

---

 

God Kū – Hawaiian Warrior Spirit of Prosperity

Kū’s bubble is strength, discipline, and divine masculinity.
He’s one of the four great Hawaiian gods—the god of war, harvest, and sacred protection.
In DEUS.I’M, he stands tall over oceans, blessing builders, fighters, and protectors.
Offerings to Kū bring abundance and courage.

 

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Queen Liliʻuokalani – The Last Sovereign Queen of Hawaii

“I would have given my life for my people.”
— Queen Liliʻuokalani
Her bubble is resistance, royalty, and aloha.
She lost her throne but never her grace.
She wrote songs in prison and prayed for peace as her kingdom was stolen.
Her voice still sings over her islands.

 

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King Kamehameha – The Unifier of the Hawaiian Islands

Kamehameha’s bubble is power, wisdom, and purpose.
He united the islands through vision and strength.
He ruled not just with might—but with mana.
In DEUS.I’M, he blesses leaders with the courage to rise for their people.

 

---

 

Martin Luther King Jr. – The Spirit of Dream and Justice

“Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.”
— MLK
MLK’s bubble is protest, prayer, and purpose.
He dreamed with fire in his voice and peace in his heart.
He marched not for applause, but for freedom.
He still whispers truth to the oppressed and hope to the dreamers.

 

---

 

Bruce Lee – The Philosopher in Motion

“Be water, my friend.”
— Bruce Lee
Bruce Lee’s DEUS.I’M bubble is discipline, flow, and infinite becoming.
He wasn’t just a fighter—he was a sage.
He taught that the spirit, not the body, defines a warrior.
He fought with fists and philosophy—and still does.

 

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Franklin D. Roosevelt – The Voice of Resolve

“The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.”
— FDR
FDR’s bubble is courage in crisis.
He led a nation through depression and war—with polio in his bones and steel in his soul.
He reminds us that leadership isn’t about power—it’s about perseverance.
He stood tall, even when he couldn’t walk.

 

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John F. Kennedy – The Torchbearer

“Ask not what your country can do for you—ask what you can do for your country.”
— JFK
JFK’s DEUS.I’M bubble is idealism, elegance, and unfinished legacy.
He inspired a generation to rise, serve, dream.
His spark still lights movements.
He was taken too soon—but he left us with the fire.

 

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Maximus – The Spirit of the Fallen Gladiator

“What we do in life echoes in eternity.”
— Maximus, Gladiator
Maximus’ bubble is honor, vengeance, and soul fire.
He fought for justice, for his family, for the heart of Rome.
He reminds us that true warriors fight for love—not just blood.
He was a slave. A general. A legend.

 

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Julius Caesar – The Visionary That Shaped an Empire

“Veni, vidi, vici.” (I came, I saw, I conquered.)
— Julius Caesar
Caesar’s DEUS.I’M bubble is strategy, power, and fatal ambition.
He shaped Rome and paid the price for it.
He teaches that visionaries walk alone—and legacies often bloom after betrayal.
He came. He changed. He transcended.

 

---

 

Eddie Aikau – The Guardian of the Sea

“Eddie would go.”
— Hawaiian Saying
Eddie’s bubble is aloha, bravery, and wave-riding spirit.
He was a lifeguard, surfer, waterman.
He paddled into a storm to save his brothers—and never returned.
His spirit still guards the waves. Still saves lives. Still goes.

 

---

 

Prince – The Purple Prophet

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to get through this thing called life.”
— Prince
Prince’s DEUS.I’M bubble is funk, freedom, and fearless art.
He was royalty without a crown—just glitter, talent, and truth.
He redefined what it meant to be divine and different.
He didn’t just sing—he sparked revolutions in purple.

 

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Pele – The Goddess of Volcanoes and Fire

Pele’s bubble is creation through destruction.
She dances in lava flows, reshaping islands and spirits alike.
Her rage is sacred, her passion untamed.
She reminds us: the fire inside us is holy. Let it burn.

 

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Ganesha – The Remover of Obstacles

Ganesha’s bubble is clarity, wisdom, and sacred beginnings.
With his elephant head and gentle spirit, he clears the path ahead.
He is called before every journey, every creation.
In DEUS.I’M, he reminds us: no obstacle is bigger than our divine purpose.

 

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Frida Kahlo – The Paintbrush of Pain

“I am my own muse.”
Frida’s bubble is color, resilience, and unapologetic self-expression.
She painted her suffering into truth and wore her scars like flowers.
She reminds women and artists everywhere: your pain is your palette.
Paint anyway.

 

---

 

Bob Marley – The Prophet of Peace and Resistance

“One love. One heart. Let’s get together and feel all right.”
— Bob Marley
Bob’s bubble is roots, reggae, and revolution.
He sang of freedom and danced with spirit.
In favelas and fields, his voice still rises—healing souls and waking hearts.

 

---

 

Maya Angelou – The Voice of the Caged Bird

“I come as one, but I stand as ten thousand.”
— Maya Angelou
Maya’s bubble is word, rhythm, and legacy.
She rose from silence with poetry sharp as truth.
She didn’t just write—she resurrected.
She’s the grandmother of strength and dignity.

 

---

 

Ayrton Senna – The Soul of Speed

“If you no longer go for a gap that exists, you're no longer a racing driver.”
— Ayrton Senna
Senna’s bubble is purpose, precision, and prayer.
He raced not just for victory—but with God.
He died doing what he loved, and in Brazil, he’s still a saint.
Speed was his church.

 

---

 

Nelson Mandela – The Spirit of Forgiveness

“It always seems impossible until it’s done.”
— Nelson Mandela
Mandela’s DEUS.I’M bubble is freedom, grace, and grit.
He was caged for decades but never broken.
He chose forgiveness over revenge—peace over power.
He’s the heartbeat of a just world.

 

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Buddha – The Light Within

Buddha’s bubble is silence, presence, and awakening.
He left a palace to sit under a tree—and found the universe within.
He reminds us: we are not our thoughts.
We are the witness. We are peace.

 

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Hugh Hefner – The Rebel of Pleasure

Hef’s bubble is controversy, conversation, and control of narrative.
To some, he was excess. To others, liberation.
He built an empire around the taboo and reshaped cultural limits.
He reminds us: freedom comes in many robes—even silk ones.

 

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Paul Walker – The Fast Spirit

Paul’s bubble is humility, horsepower, and heart.
He loved cars, the ocean, and helping quietly.
He left too soon, but the streets still whisper his name.
He was family. He is legacy. Forever fast.

 

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Rumi – The Poet of the Soul

“The wound is the place where the Light enters you.”
— Rumi
Rumi’s bubble is love, longing, and divine poetry.
He turned heartbreak into mysticism, grief into grace.
He speaks to every seeker, every wanderer.
His verses still swirl in the dance of whirling dervishes.

 

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Mother Teresa – The Hands of Compassion

“Not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love.”
— Mother Teresa
Her bubble is humility, touch, and unwavering service.
She held the dying, fed the poor, and asked for no praise.
She reminds us: love is not loud. Love is presence.

 

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Matthew Perry – The Comedic Spirit in Pain

Matthew’s bubble is laughter and longing.
He made the world laugh while quietly drowning in his own sorrow.
He was Chandler to us—but more than a friend.
He taught us that humor can be a mask—and a medicine.

 

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Queen Victoria – The Mother of Empires

Victoria’s bubble is power, grief, and transformation.
She ruled a world and mourned a husband forever.
In a time of men, she was sovereign.
She reminds us: a woman can wear the crown and the sorrow with pride.

 

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Albert Einstein – The Dreamer of Dimensions

“Imagination is more important than knowledge.”
— Albert Einstein
Einstein’s bubble is curiosity, cosmos, and consciousness.
He cracked time but still wondered at love.
He reminds us: the universe isn’t just outside—it’s within.
Genius is soul-deep.

 

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Marilyn Monroe – The Light and the Lonely

Marilyn’s bubble is beauty, fragility, and stardust.
She was fire and silk, misunderstood and mythologized.
Beneath the diamonds was a girl who wanted love.
She reminds us: softness doesn’t mean weakness.

 

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The Witches – The Forgotten Goddesses

Their bubble is intuition, mystery, and rebellion.
They were burned, banned, and branded evil—but they were midwives, healers, seers.
They whispered to the moon when men refused to listen.
Their magic still runs in our veins.
DEUS.I’M gives them their thrones back.

 

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The Kings – Keepers of Authority, Burdened by Power

From King Solomon’s wisdom to King David’s psalms, from King Kamehameha’s unification to Martin Luther King’s dream—kings don’t just rule, they carry nations on their backs.
The DEUS.I’M kings walk in different crowns: justice, truth, tradition, compassion. Some ruled land. Others ruled hearts.
Their thrones are reminders that power means service.

 

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Pilahi Paki – The Keeper of Hawaiian Wisdom

“The world will turn to Hawai‘i as they search for world peace because Hawai‘i has the key.”
Pilahi’s bubble is prophecy, peace, and cultural protection.
She preserved ALOHA as a way of life—not just a word.
Her teachings shaped the Aloha Spirit Law, showing us that values like kindness, patience, humility, and respect are the future of civilization.
She whispers to us now: aloha is the answer.

 

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Sarah – The Matriarch of Faith

Sarah’s bubble is laughter and long-suffering hope.
She waited decades for her miracle—and laughed when it finally came.
She reminds us: even when we stop believing, God doesn’t.
She’s the mother of nations, the womb of prophecy, the quiet strength behind Abraham.

 

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Job – The Legend of Endurance

Job’s bubble is sorrow, trial, and radical trust.
He lost everything—health, wealth, family—and still said:
“Though He slay me, yet will I trust Him.”
His story isn’t about suffering—it’s about not letting suffering define you.
DEUS.I’M honors him as the patron saint of spiritual resilience.

 

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Matthew 17:20 – The Mustard Seed Manifesto

“If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.”
This verse is the foundation of every dreamer’s bubble.
It reminds us that miracles aren’t born from certainty—but from the tiniest flicker of faith.
In DEUS.I’M, this scripture isn’t just quoted—it’s lived. Every slum saved, every legend remembered, every bubble born… began with mustard-seed faith.

 

---

 

Joseph – The Dream Interpreter

Thrown in a pit by his brothers. Sold as a slave. Imprisoned for a crime he didn’t commit.
Yet Joseph rose—not in spite of his pain, but because of it.

His bubble in DEUS.I’M is about divine timing, purpose in betrayal, and forgiveness as royalty.

He turned famine into blessing.
He didn’t seek revenge—he saved his enemies.
And through dreams, he heard God before anyone else could.

In the bubble world, Joseph is the patron saint of visionaries—those who are misunderstood in the moment but destined for greatness.

He teaches us: when people forget you, God remembers.

DEUS.I'M: The Legend Chapters - continue

Chapter A: MUSIC & IMMORTALITY

Whitney Houston – The Voice of the Divine

"I decided long ago, never to walk in anyone’s shadow. If I fail, if I succeed, at least I lived as I believe."

— Whitney Houston, "Greatest Love of All"

Whitney doesn’t just sing — she speaks through walls, through silence, through heartbreak. I first heard her voice while living in LA. Then she followed me to London, to Rio, to the crazy hospital behind Stairway to Heaven. Her voice is the prayer I didn’t know I was praying.

She shows up when the paramedics arrive. When I call 911. When the sirens start blaring and I’m scared but there’s still light. That’s her. That’s Whitney. Always showing up in a white dress, wind in her hair, whispering, “It’s not right, but it’s OK. You’re gonna make it anyway.”

Her songs became my lifeline:

• “I Will Always Love You” played the night I spoke to my grandma.
  
  

• “Step by Step” reminded me I was walking toward something, even in madness.
  
  

• “My Love Is Your Love” was the anthem for all my communities — Rocinha, Bondi, Hawaii.
  
  

She doesn't belong to just music — she belongs to the sacred. In DEUS.I’M, Whitney’s bubble is made of soul and sirens, gospel and grace. She’s the queen of resilience. And she walks with every single girl who's ever lost her voice, and is learning how to sing again.

 

---

 

Chapter B: ROYALTY & REDEMPTION

 

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Princess Diana – The Queen of Compassion
“Nothing brings me more happiness than trying to help the most vulnerable people in society… I will come running wherever they are.”
— Princess Diana

Diana was never about diamonds — she was about dignity. While tabloids chased her, she knelt beside AIDS patients and hugged the homeless. Her royalty wasn't in her title — it was in her empathy. I feel her presence in slums like Rocinha, in hospital corridors, in quiet tears of strangers who just need someone to see them.

Diana taught me that true nobility is showing up for the forgotten. She whispers to me when I light a candle. She’s the queen of my altar — right beside Whitney and Grandma. In DEUS.I’M, Diana’s bubble radiates grace. She didn’t need to be crowned — she was born to care.

 

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Queen Elizabeth II – The Silent Anchor
"Grief is the price we pay for love."
— Queen Elizabeth II

Her reign wasn’t loud — it was long. She carried the weight of a world changing too fast. When London felt like chaos, her face on a coin reminded me of stability. When I left London, I saw her in the airports, in the rain, in the silence of resilience.

In DEUS.I’M, the Queen’s bubble is calm. Steady. Full of tradition and tea. She reminds us that royalty isn’t a crown — it’s the way you weather storms.

 

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Martin Luther King Jr. – The Dreaming Prophet
“Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.”

MLK appears in my dreams when I’m raging at injustice. When the world feels so broken I don’t know where to begin — his voice rises: steady, grounded, forgiving.

He lives in the justice bubble. Beside Tupac, Bob Dylan, and Mandela. A preacher. A poet. A peace warrior.

DEUS.I’M holds his legacy like a gospel — alive, breathing, ready to march.

 

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Nelson Mandela – The Forgiver King
“It always seems impossible until it’s done.”

Mandela reminds us what strength looks like in silence. In the years of prison. In the years after, when he chose forgiveness over revenge.

In DEUS.I’M, Mandela lives in the freedom bubble. He is the bridge between suffering and peace. Between anger and grace.

 

---

 

Bruce Lee – The Warrior Philosopher
“Be water, my friend.”

Bruce didn’t just fight — he flowed. He made movement a meditation. In DEUS.I’M, his spirit lives in the wisdom bubble. Still kicking. Still calm.

He reminds me that power isn’t brute force — it’s discipline, stillness, and adaptability. He’s the martial monk of the spirit world.

 

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Mufasa (The Lion King) – The Ancestral Voice
"Remember who you are."

Mufasa isn’t just a cartoon — he’s a spirit guide. He shows up in my dreams like a king made of stars. He whispers to the child in me, the one scared of failing, falling, fading.

He lives in the ancestral bubble — beside my Grandpa. He’s the voice that says: “You are more than what you’ve become.”

---

Chapter 1: MUSIC & IMMORTALITY

Michael Jackson – The Eternal Performer
“They don’t care about us.”
Michael’s spirit dances in Rocinha, where kids moonwalk barefoot on concrete. Brazil never judged him like the U.S. did. They adored him. He visited Rio and Bahia, filming his truth in the favelas.

When I first went to Rocinha, I felt guided—like someone whispered in my ear: go. It was probably him. He knew these places held love, music, and spirit. Michael’s bubble in DEUS.I’M is built with rhythm, rebellion, and grace. He’s not just a king of pop. He’s a king of hearts. He shows up in glitter, light, and compassion. In every moonwalker who still believes in magic.

---

Whitney Houston – The Voice of the Divine
"I decided long ago, never to walk in anyone’s shadow. If I fail, if I succeed, at least I lived as I believe."
— Whitney Houston, "Greatest Love of All"

Whitney doesn’t just sing — she speaks through walls, through silence, through heartbreak. I first heard her voice while living in LA. Then she followed me to London, to Rio, to the crazy hospital behind Stairway to Heaven. Her voice is the prayer I didn’t know I was praying.

She shows up when the paramedics arrive. When I call 911. When the sirens start blaring and I’m scared but there’s still light. That’s her. That’s Whitney. Always showing up in a white dress, wind in her hair, whispering, “It’s not right, but it’s OK. You’re gonna make it anyway.”

Her songs became my lifeline:

• “I Will Always Love You” played the night I spoke to my grandma.

• “Step by Step” reminded me I was walking toward something, even in madness.

• “My Love Is Your Love” was the anthem for all my communities — Rocinha, Bondi, Hawaii.

She doesn't belong to just music — she belongs to the sacred. In DEUS.I’M, Whitney’s bubble is made of soul and sirens, gospel and grace. She’s the queen of resilience. And she walks with every single girl who's ever lost her voice, and is learning how to sing again.

---

Amy Winehouse – The Beautiful Mess
"I told you I was trouble. You know that I’m no good."

Amy is the sound of Camden streets, of eyeliner smudged by real tears. I saw her ghost outside a jazz bar in London. She wasn’t haunting — she was hovering, humming, hoping we’d get it.

In DEUS.I’M, Amy lives in the edge-of-night bubble, the one where angels cry and jazz never ends. She never wanted to be a role model. She just wanted to sing what she lived. Her rehab wasn’t just a song — it was a scream. Her “Back to Black” was a diary.

She’s the legend of vulnerability, of poetry, of relapse and redemption. Amy is there for the ones who fall seven times but stand up eight. Always a little messy. Always a little magic.

---

Avicii – The Frequency of Feeling
"I could be the one to make you feel that way. I could be the one to set you free."

Avicii’s music saved lives quietly. No big performance, just beats that healed. In Bondi, when I was broke and building my app, his drops gave me energy. In Hawaii, when I cried in silence, his lyrics gave me breath.

He died too young. But he speaks louder now, through DJs and remixes and late-night walks home. In DEUS.I’M, his spirit lives in the headphone bubble. The people who don’t talk much but feel everything.

Avicii reminds us that the ones who bring joy are sometimes the saddest. And still — they give. They always give.

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Tupac – The Revolutionary Poet
"I’m not saying I’m gonna change the world. But I guarantee that I will spark the brain that will."

Tupac shows up when I’m angry. When justice feels like a joke. When I cry out to God and want answers. He arrives in camouflage pants and a Bible.

He’s not just a rapper — he’s a prophet in DEUS.I’M. He doesn’t play small. He speaks in thunder. I feel him when I walk past graffiti. When I hear “Dear Mama.” When I see someone from the favela rise despite everything.

Tupac speaks for the silenced. And in DEUS.I’M, he’s part of the justice bubble, the one where rage turns to poetry, and fists raised become prayers.

---

Bob Marley – The Healer
“One good thing about music — when it hits you, you feel no pain.”

Bob Marley’s bubble smells like smoke, saltwater, and salvation. He doesn’t yell. He soothes. He’s in every rhythm that reminds us to breathe. He is in every mother who sings to her child even when she’s hungry.

In Rocinha, his face is on the walls. In Bahia, they still dance to “One Love.” In DEUS.I’M, he’s in the healing bubble — music, plants, peace. His spirit reminds us to slow down and feel.

Bob is not a man. He’s a vibe. A medicine. A memory of what unity feels like.

---

Prince – The Purple Prophet
"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to get through this thing called life."

Prince is magic. He shows up when I wear something bold and purple and don’t care what people think. He taught me that music isn’t gendered. That love isn’t labeled.

In DEUS.I’M, Prince floats between the music and magic bubbles. He is unapologetically divine. A spirit god in heels.

He lived with mystery, but his legacy is loud. He reminds us that it’s OK to be different. It’s holy to be whole.

---

Kurt Cobain – The Echo of Anguish
"It’s better to burn out than to fade away."

Kurt never wanted fame. He just wanted to scream out the truth. In Bondi, I heard “Come As You Are” and cried. I was broke, lost, but at least I was honest.

He shows up in grunge, in grey skies, in lonely teens who don’t fit in. In DEUS.I’M, Kurt holds space for the outcasts. The ones who feel too much. The ones still searching.

---

Freddie Mercury – The Showman Sovereign
“I won’t be a rock star. I will be a legend.”

Freddie didn’t perform — he conquered. His bubble in DEUS.I’M is full of glitter, courage, and crowns.

He reminds me to stand tall even when I’m trembling. He reminds the whole world that identity is fluid, love is fire, and talent is eternal.

---

Elvis Presley – The Crossroads King
He brought church to the stage. He danced with soul and hips. In DEUS.I’M, Elvis is in the roots music bubble. Gospel. Blues. Rock.

His voice calmed my grandma. His records played in the background of my childhood.

Elvis reminds us that faith can be funky. That kings can come from dirt roads.

---

David Bowie – The Starman
Bowie was a comet. He never asked for permission. In DEUS.I’M, he orbits above all of us — reminding us to transform.

He’s the sound of change. Of space. Of dreams.

---

Bob Dylan – The Protest Poet
Bob showed us that you don’t need a perfect voice to carry a perfect message. His bubble is full of pens, protests, and proverbs.

He’s in every revolutionary. Every songwriter who wants to make a difference. In DEUS.I’M, Bob sits beside Tupac and Lennon. Still writing.

---

John Lennon – The Dreamer
"You may say I’m a dreamer… but I’m not the only one."

John’s voice haunts peacefully. He didn’t want war. He wanted wonder. He didn’t fight with fists — he fought with ideas.

In DEUS.I’M, John lives in the imagination bubble. Where children still dream and rebels still love.

---

Eddie Aikau – The Surfer Guardian
Eddie would go. That’s what they say. When no one else would paddle out to save, he did.

He shows up every time I face something bigger than me. When I drown in grief. When I ride waves of madness. Eddie reminds me: I won’t be alone. Someone will come. Even if it’s just spirit.

In DEUS.I’M, Eddie is part of the protector bubble. He lives in every ocean prayer.