In the state of Tocantins where Arguacema is, people still greet each other on the street.
Still share food without keeping score.
Still know which house has someone who’s struggling.
I’m not just nostalgic for this past. I really do see it as a blueprint for something we’re missing.
Modern society has given us incredible tools. But without a moral architecture or depth of connection, all we’re doing is building taller structures with emptier foundations.
I carry Arguacema with me everywhere I go.
Not because it was perfect. But because it taught me something we’re in danger of forgetting:
Safety is not just the absence of danger. It is the presence of people who care enough to notice when something isn't right.
And that noticing, that vigilância amorosa—loving vigilance—is what I believe could truly disrupt exploitation at its root.
