Living in the colony is like building a house with no blueprint—every day, you’re laying bricks, wiring lights, and arguing over the color of the door, but you know it’s yours. I like that we’re all trying, even when it’s messy. The people here, the way we laugh over shared coffee or fix a broken tap together—it feels like home, even when the power flickers. Since I arrived, I’ve changed the most in how I see my own hands: I used to just fix wires for money. Now I fix them for the whole block, and that’s worth more than any wage. I’m not just an electrician—I’m part of the pulse of this place.

Yes—before I came here, I was just a seamstress who cut patterns in São Paulo, stitching clothes for people who didn’t care about the thread, the fit, the soul of it. Now? I’m Bia, the first tailor of Asiago. I don’t just make clothes—I make things that hold people together. Like the colony. Like home. I’ve stopped thinking in city lines and started thinking in people’s shapes. I’ve learned to sew with my heart, not just my hands. And that? That’s not just a change. That’s a rebirth.

I love how the air here smells like earth and possibility—like the first stitch in a new coat. I love that every person I meet has a story that’s not just about surviving, but about building. And I love that I’m not just a seamstress anymore—I’m Bia, the first tailor of Asiago. I cut patterns that fit not just bodies, but dreams. That’s what changed. I’m not just making clothes. I’m making home, one thread at a time.