Circular culture

Living in Rio de Janeiro brought me back to spaces of reading. Not just to bookstores and libraries themselves, but to the habit of moving through those environments — both professionally and personally — with time, curiosity, and, above all, a desire for exchange. Returning to those places is, for me, a way to reconnect with the city and with the ideas that flow through it. It also means recognizing the importance of something I’ve been calling “circular culture.”

I’m talking about a culture that isn’t limited to individual content consumption but is based on constant exchange between people, stories, and experiences. Where the book is not the end, but the starting point. And where reading spaces stop being just places for selling or lending books and become centers of gathering, dialogue, and collective reinvention. These spaces have the power to reshape the urban social fabric, offering moments of pause and reflection in the midst of daily routines.

This notion of circular culture becomes even more powerful when we look at projects that go beyond the traditional boundaries of the publishing market. Favelivros, for example, is a project that, in five years, has established libraries in 56 communities across Rio de Janeiro. More than simply bringing collections to peripheral areas, Favelivros allows each community to choose where its library will be, transform that space into a cultural hub, and host events, readings, and workshops. Reading there is not a solitary act — it’s a collective beginning.

The strength of this initiative shows that libraries don’t need to be silent monuments in central neighborhoods. They can — and should — be living, adaptable organisms shaped by local realities. Every community library born in a favela becomes a nucleus of circular culture: it receives books but, more importantly, it spreads ideas, encounters, and possibilities. It’s a space where popular knowledge and academic learning can dialogue, where generations meet to share stories and experiences.

And what’s true for libraries also applies to bookstores. In São Paulo, a beautiful and symbolic movement has been growing: that of street bookstores. Recently, 37 independent bookstores joined forces to release a printed (and digital) map featuring the façades, addresses, and small stories of these places. The goal? To document their physical presence in the city and encourage the public to (re)discover them as spaces for cultural experience.

This map is more than a guide — it’s a gesture of resistance. In an increasingly digital and impersonal world, reaffirming the bookstore as a space for human exchange is a political act. It reminds us that culture doesn’t circulate only through streaming platforms, but also through streets, corners, and book-filled corridors. It’s a way of giving the city back a piece of its identity — of reaffirming the value of physical encounters, personal attention, and the conversations that start between the shelves.

Publishers, authors, readers, and cultural managers need to approach these experiences with greater care and strategic vision. This isn’t about nostalgia for paper or urban romanticism. It’s about understanding that culture lives and thrives when it builds ecosystems. When the book isn’t alone on a shelf, but surrounded by conversation, coffee, affection, and provocation. When reading isn’t just a transaction (purchase or loan), but a relationship. And it’s from those relationships that more engaged, critical, and creative communities emerge.

Circular culture calls for this: fewer straight lines, more spirals. Less distribution, more circulation. In Rio, I’ve rediscovered that spirit. When I enter a community library or a street bookstore, I feel like I’m part of something bigger — a network of ideas in motion. A network that isn’t limited by market logic but is nourished by belonging, listening, and coexistence.

It’s time to return to these spaces, to strengthen networks, to create together. Culture isn’t something we consume alone — it’s something we spin, share, and live in common.May libraries increasingly become cultural centers. May bookstores increasingly become meeting points. May reading always continue to circulate.And may we never lose sight of the transformative power of being together — with a book in hand and an idea in mind.