Eva Dias Costa

Eva Dias Costa

I’ve spent years writing under structure. This is where the structure slips.

📍 Based in Porto, Portugal. https://evadiascosta.carrd.co/

#30. Man Submits Theory.

There is a man who draws diagrams on the surface of closed doors. He says they explain what’s behind them. Sometimes someone inside is screaming. He calls that symbolic interference. Later, in a quiet magazine, he folds the siren into origami. He says: look, a theory. Down the hall,

#27. December, Maybe.

The days fall out of sequence again. The fork appears before the hand, then the window – then the question: “Is this morning, or just another sentence with light in it?” ⸻ Someone says something kind. She touches it with gloves on. The compliment writhes a little. She leaves it on the

The Trigger Warning Officer

Office of Inclusive Experience Memorandum: Content-Safety Review for Humanities Materials Reviewer: Adjunct Associate for Emotional Risk Mitigation Dear Colleagues, In keeping with the new Compassion Framework (v. 5.3), I have completed this semester’s audit of literary materials. Our goal, as always, is to ensure that students encounter no

April/October

for W.B., honoured on his birthday 23 October 2025 I. It was October, but they sang like April. Their voices wavered – age inside the strain. A red carnation pinned to each lapel. A fado, then a harvest song – off-plane. Born under watch, he crossed a darker path – a child

# 26. Basel – Mulhouse – Letting Go.

Guten Abend. Achtung. This is your crew speaking. We will shortly begin the process of letting go. Please take a moment to locate the exits. Your child will not use them. He lives here now. Ensure all visiting emotions are stored securely before take‑off. Do not block the aisle

Air

After a True Farce The hearing began at 10:07. There was a brief delay: someone had parked in the magistrate’s space and left a peach yoghurt behind. We stood. The judge entered sideways, adjusting her robe as if betrayed by it. The clerk intoned the case number, an

Don't Embarrass Me

‘How awful it was, thought Tessa, remembering Fats the toddler, the way tiny ghosts of your living children haunted your heart; they could never know, and would hate it if they did, how their growing was a constant bereavement.’ – J.K. Rowling, The Casual Vacancy The ghost is small. Still

Gnossienne of Rain

A bead falls beadlet falls beadfall again hush gathers hush hush gathers again stillness leans stillness leant stillness leaning waits B low drift low drifting low drift lower shadow hums shadow hush hushes again A bead falls beadlet falling beadfall again again once more fracture once more echo once more

#25. Note to Self.

The corridor hosted a rehearsal a play drafted in absence. Props included: a vending machine, two shadows, poor timing. A correction entered the scene dressed as punctuation. It was too sharp, and the marble floor feigned offence. Later, the archive misfiled the event under meteorological anomalies. In the margin, faintly:

Unphotographable Porto

She’s up early. Breath like stone dust. The streets are wet, always – from rain, from hosepipes, from the river breathing uphill. A crane grinds, coughs steel into the mist. Laundry strung like rosaries, a dog beneath blue tiles, a grandmother climbing cobbles with her shopping. Tiles crack. Paint flakes.

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