President, I cannot and do not want to call you ex-President. I am here in the comfort of my own room, looking for the words to comfort you in your hours of confinement, to give some color to the square formed by those four walls of yours, to entertain even if it is just for a few minutes in those hours of each day that pass so slowly. I would exchange my soft mattress with yours, and the food from my pot, hot and seasoned, for your bland lunch pail, which endorses the punishment that you are suffering, for a crime not your own.

Lula, I keep thinking about how cool it is to be a leader who is called by his nickname. I think it’s crazy and so open to have a nickname compounding the name Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva! You parents must be happy to see that you are venerated for what you represent, and therefore your nickname is revered. Four letters, four cardinal points where the people reside, today sad, but hopeful, to see whether justice, as the proverb says, will be the last thing to die. I’m not going to repeat here the dirty tricks that make up the repugnant profile of the coup. You were always the target. The goal was always to destroy you, and not just to break up the left, but because of jealousy, greed, and evil, along the lines of “since we are already losing the game, we might as well upend the board.”

Lula, stay strong in there. Your platform is built and your words will not be forgotten. We are fighting here outside, praying and striving, and taking care that nothing bad happens to you physically, and so that this web of lies and anti-laws is reversed and you exit that cage into the streets, back to your family, and back into social life. What a waste for you to be locked up in there! It doesn’t befit “your honor.” We need you. It such a pity not to be able to bring you a banana pastry in there… I will have to owe you that pleasure upon your release. Pray, meditate, and create a web of protection around you, that makes any evil looks, aggressions, and verbal mistreatments that you may encounter in there turn around and go back to their points of origin. Your saint is strong. And ours is, too. You just stay quiet and clever. Everything, everything, everything will be possible. Love, your hidden fan.