Night falls overwhelmed soles that are full of stars gives this place does not therefore stop looking.
It is a place for everything, to write, to dream, to love, and of course, also to fight. If
night, there are pens, no leaves, no music. The night owns everything, and always gives the truth.
The pale faces are transformed by travelers, the hands of the pickers are weapons with feathers, perhaps, writing verses empty. Empty because they have no way empty because there is no end. They are free, as the night itself. And chasing dreams, like those born of the night.
Tonight, our night will be half-empty glasses, will be dancing souls, men and women will be reciting words from the heart, truly inspired. It should be a night to share, and start from us and for us to bring the human mystical life.
We will fight injustice with words, to conjure strange wounds that open in our being, changing illusions and fantasies unfold. Will the dark who whispers in his ear the correct classical way of using poetry as a rifle, to use music as a companion. And is there at last, where we will find our faces in fog or in the bush, to look at us closely and say that nothing is given, that everything we touch can be changed.
Join us for a night of freedom.
Come to read, reciting, listening, screaming, singing, creating music, sharing, to be ...
An evening of poetry and music without an audience, because all the comrades we participate with our presence. 
Art is politics and politics is art, art start from the world we create. 
live music without explanation!
Poetry Viva Libre!
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