For some time now, I've had a simple but profound dream: to own a Kombi.

I'm not just talking about a vehicle. I'm talking about freedom, adventure, a home on wheels where we can laugh, sleep, watch the sunset, and wake up somewhere else. A Kombi represents a less rushed, more present life. Where not much is needed, just the essentials: my wife, my two children, a backpack with the necessities, and, God willing, a German Shepherd, which I don't have yet (because there's no room in this apartment where we live), but I can already see it running free on some beach in southern Brazil.

Why the Kombi? Because it's a symbol of simplicity, of community, of resilience. It's not perfect, it's not fast, but it can withstand anything. Like us. We've had to push hard, emigrate, start from scratch. But we've also learned to dream with our feet firmly on the ground.

A Kombi isn't just a car. It's a mobile home, it's a refuge, it's a travel companion. It's history on wheels. It's the image we all have in our heads when we think of freedom, adventure, and the simple life. You see it and think of dirt roads, hidden beaches, mountains at sunset. You see a possible world, one more human, closer to the earth, and far from the noise.

Many of us dream of disconnecting from the system for a bit, even if it's just on the weekends. Sleeping under the stars, making coffee on a gas stove as the sun rises, opening the back doors and letting in only a breeze, not notifications.

With a Kombi, my plan is to slowly travel around this immense country, showing my children a real world, beyond screens and routines. Reading stories under the stars. Drinking coffee on the back door with the ocean in front of them. Being free, without having to wait for "someday."

I know I'm not the only one who dreams of a life like this.