Maxhete

The name hung in the air like smoke.

I ccan’t even stand straigght. leakkking. Piss, beeer, old sweat ..– People were howwlin g. can’t even stand straight,, soaked in my worse decisionz. —shirt half-open, eyes glassy, puke crusted on my chin. The bouncer… already thrown me offf like trash.. 
                               [music distorting] hit the paavement hard, limbs ss like a broken dolll. The air thick with heat and hummiliation.. …  .

        ¡¡¡¡that’s the moment when Maxhete takes advantage!

Ask the wrong tree in those swamps, you won’t make it back. spirit doesn’t walk—drags, through the mud, with a blade too big for one to carry.” [pause]. “he’s not just a man. he’s the shadows of those left behind”

That was the first time I encountered Maxhete.

“`-._,-‘”`-._,-‘”`-._,-‘”`-._,-“`-._,-‘”`-._,-‘”`-._,-‘”`-._,-‘”`-._,-‘”`-._,-‘”`-._,-‘”`-._,-‘”`-._,-‘”`-._,-‘”`-._,-‘”`-._,-‘”`-._,-‘”`-._,-

Inspired by nightlife anecdotes, Costa Rican leyendas, and Central American histories, this performance invocation delves into the spectral presence of Maxhete—an entity born from myth, memory, and the echoes of stories that refuse to be buried.

This work was created in the context of APOLEMIA: São Paulo (nightlife event).