“For the record, he died peacefully yesterday, sitting in an armchair,” someone posted on his Facebook social network. That’s how I found out about the departure of Luiz Duboc.

All of us who knew him had a unique and personal story with him. I am sure.

He returned to Brazil many years ago, we communicated from time to time, without necessity, because the one who would meet us next time was always present.

Let’s go back to one Friday, like every Friday, Luiz was dressed completely in white as a sacrifice to his goddess Yemanjá. He entered through the doors of the Faculty of Communication, briskly, with disheveled gray hair and a ringed text in his hands. Title: an office without creativity. It started like this: “First of all, free. Because you cannot live without freedom, and living is thinking. An office because that’s where it’s done, and in this case it’s an imaginary office. Office of Free Thought. An office where you play with your imagination. Just seriously. But nobody notices. This paper should be considered an official Casa Grande University course”. That introduction was followed by ninety-five pages straight from the typewriter, outlining an entire course that no one asked for.

But that was Luiz, passionate, committed and convinced to the end. How not to open that free-spirited and confusing Portuñol office for young students?

He was the Luiz of advertising, Luiz’s professor, Luiz’s friend, Luiz’s enemy, but above all, Luiz’s writer. Sharp, penetrating, precise, questioning. He wrote essays, poems, courses, as well as advertising scenarios and slogans. He wrote about the origin of art, philosophy, language or the discovery of the piston rod.

Thank you forever dear Luiz (…) Tequila and stupid cold beer are for you today.

This Brazilian, speaking in a bar or at home among piles of books, plaques and figures of owls, was brilliant, intense and consistent. Also aware of its consequences, “something is always lost when freedom is gained,” he declared. He returned to his country. Things were not easy. In October 2021, he sent an email saying, “I have written 4 books of fiction and 3 books of poetry. It means nothing: it’s a miracle to publish one. Brazil is dying. Creative writing course, I have been waiting for an answer for 6 months. I continue to write so as not to despair”. A month ago he told me that his course was finally approved and he was teaching again. I was happy. That was the last I heard from him.

Alfredo from Guayaquil wrote to him at one point: “The pages of our faded books are better because you made the brave decision to spend a few years here and instill some talent in our lives.”

Thank you forever dear Luiz. “The only obligation a friend has to devote to another is to inspire him,” you wrote in one of your writings, and you achieved that in these areas. Tequila and stupid cold beer are for you today. Wow Duboc! (OR)