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"You see," he told me, eyes lost in the beautiful sea. "There is this goddess, Iemanjá, who rules the sea. She is here, you know - every day, when we feel the waves, when we wash our bodies with this water, we are praying for her." I said nothing. I used to be very religious and Iemanjá, yorubá goddess of the sea, was one of my personal favorite entities. Things were so complicated those days - my dad had just died, he was so young, so pure, and no amount of pray helped us to keep him. I was mad at all the gods; as a pagan, I had a lot of people to be angry with anyway. And yet, I decided to go to Salvador, one of the biggest places of worship in Brazil. I don't know if my heart wanted to believe something would happen there, so I could regain my faith. I don't know if I expected, deep inside, to finally understand there was no one looking up for and protecting me. Losing all hope is freedom, isn't it what they say? Some sad, silly part of me felt it, but was too ashamed to admit. So I thought: I will not feel anything, so I'll finally let go of this childish belief. Then I saw the sea. The moment it touched my feet, it sent shivers through my legs and made me feel something-- "It's curious, isn't it," he said, realizing I was just too intrigued to say anything. "Sometimes the sea talks to us in a very personal way. Some hear it, it's like a voice saying hard, but necessary things into your ears. Some can't hear it, but they feel it, this wake up call." "Religare," I said. He frowned and waited me to go on. "That's, I think, is the origin of the word "religion". Religare. In portuguese, it makes a lot of sense, I guess. The act of finding again the axis mundi, the thing that puts you in contact with a higher self, maybe... your higher self, I don't know." "Is God everywhere?", he asked, interested in my rant. I shrugged. "All of them, I suppose?" "I think so," I answered, slowly and thoughtful. "Why did you come here for?", he asked, then smiled. "Are you on vacation?" "I guess I was," I smiled back. My legs felt heavy; there was a strange vibration all over me. I remembered-- The feeling of being loved. The understanding. The feeling of having someone to take care of me, even though that someone wasn't physically there. My father, dead and white, with his eyes closed and a single tear on his cheek. How I prayed and prayed and couldn't change that, but isn't it what happens - don't we all die? Some die alone, some don't. He didn't die alone. I was there. The sea danced around me as I realized that-- They were there. Before and now, ever so patient. "I guess I was," I repeated and breathed for the first time in years. I licked my chapped lips and smiled, still vibrating. "But I came back. To me."