Plank cabin art prints are so cozy and integrated with their surrounding environments. They almost seem not to have been made by men.
In the old days when I was a young surfer spending my vacations at my grandmother’s beach house, locals used to talk about a plank house in the woods.
There lived a man whose name was Roberto Kuriakis, the wave wizard, and his Siberian black dog.
Word of mouth said that the strange and mysterious man was an old mage from an ancient line of gypsies that had come to settle in Baleia Beach decades before, running away from nazi europe.
The natives would never look him in the eyes afraid that he would cast a curse on them that would freeze their hearts to death, but our parents did not seem to bother about such foolish nonsense.
To us kids he was only Big Robert, that huge tall bearded old guy with long fuzzy hair, that crawled the waves as a giant Neptune and played soccer with us like he was just a young teenager.
Big Robert was a guardian that protected us in and outside the ocean. He was our surfing and soccer teacher. He was a mentor to all our doubts and fears, like an old Jedi Master whose kindness was beyond measurement.
One vacation, just after my 18th birthday, when I arrived to Baleia, I heard that Big Robert was gone.
People whispered that he and the dog were struck by a lightning during a heavy storm, taken by the wrath of God. The old plank house abandoned for the rats.
Years later, while walking in the central streets of São Paulo, I was about to cross the street without noticing a bus was coming my way.
Strong hands help my arms and pulled, throwing me back onto the sidewalk. A police officer helped me stand up, behind him a tall man. I thanked the policeman and when he tried to show my true rescuer, the tall man was gone without a trace… except… maybe… for, on the other side of the street, the glimpse of a black Siberian dogs’ eyes, disappearing into the crowd…