On February 2nd, in Bahia, boats set sail slowly, laden with flowers, perfumes, and promises. They cross the sea like liquid prayers, offerings to Iemanjá: lady of paths and secrets.
On this day, the sea does not divide. It unites. It is embrace, passage, destiny. Every boat drifting from the shore carries the most intimate of silences: wishes, gratitude, longing.
There is something sacred in the ballet of waves against the hulls, in the wind that propels, in the chant that follows. These are gestures of faith that need no words—for here, everything is understood with the body, with the heart, with time.
In Bahia, hope sails. And never sinks.
