I’ve said it before: only a Brazilian can truly understand what Ayrton Senna meant to us. He was more than just an athlete; he was our genuine superhero, the pride of our nation. Even after all these years, his death still brings me to tears, a wound that hasn’t healed. I wrote about that grief before, but some things can’t really be explained—they have to be felt.

I returned to Formula One after Senna’s death only because of Lewis Hamilton. There’s something in Hamilton’s brilliance, his mastery on the track, and his willingness to stand up for what he believes in that reminds me of Senna. Watching him drive feels like watching a torch being passed. And today, when I saw him sitting in Senna’s car—the very one that carried to his second championship—in São Paulo, my beloved home, proudly holding our Brazilian flag, I felt chills. Goosebumps ran up my arms, and tears filled my eyes. For a moment, it felt like he was with us again.

In moments like this, Senna’s legacy feels alive, not just as a memory but as a heartbeat, steady and unbreakable, carried forward by those who believe in him still.

Image courtesy of F1WallPapers