TO MY FATHER, THE SCULPTOR MARIO CRAVO, WITH MUCH LOVE AND AFFINITIES - .The Tigers are loosing their world, and the world is loosing its tigers

A moment of beauty is a moment of encountering, and every re-encountering builds up the meaning of our life. They talk about perennial existential commitments. To Him, Èsù Lègba, the divine nightmare, whose place of origin is imprecise, bay of the body, lonesome ship, moored inside all of us - Laróyè! To Baba Omolu Afoman, the owner of the external, the one who is outside the houses and who resides in me - Atotó Olodé! To my father, the sculptor Mario Cravo Junior, who brings in him gifts of strange temperaments - much love and affinities. To my dear uncle Aminthas “Jorge” Cravo, who, under the “surname” received from the maternal side, harbours the family’s creative heritage. To Sophia e Pruni, childrens of my sons Lua and Christian, descendants of Odin, from Nordic Europe. To Nini Theilade and Alexander Kølpin, from the Royal Danish Ballet in Copenhagen. To Angela Cunha, artist and mother of my sons Lukas and Akira - at last but not least! To the memory of Bahia during my childhood and the intense chance meetings with the Òrìsà Ògiyàn of Verger - Fatumbi -, the one reborn by the grace of Ifá. To the memory of Car¥bé, artist and Otun Oba Onashokun do Ilé Àse Ópó Afonjá - “O se un o! O se un ooo!!!”. To the memory of Pai Cosme, high priest “in exhile”, all dressed in white suit with a mantis in his pocket - my first effigy. It was the Vodun who called me at first, at the open house in Rio Vermelho where the trolley and so many people came along - on the right side, an oiti tree; my mother´s yellow acácia on the left side and three palm trees in the yard in front of the house; the genipapo tree, the guindaste and Agnaldo on the left (in opposite clockwise sense), and behind the studio was the pé de Louco, Pretinho and Bé’s swamp nearby. To the memory of Traira, raised on the beaten earth floor, at the entrance to a small village, capoeirista and alabé from Cachoeira