Excess

Too many sleepless nights, too many nightmares and whiskey on deserted pubs / Too many stories told by fireplaces and sheets of paper filled with beautiful hollow thoughts / Too many advices I’ve never followed / Too many light and far too many darkness / Too many women pretending to like me / Sex made with too many people for whom I didn’t really give a fuck / Too many happiness for one person and also too many pain / Too many music taken on dance floors on huge amounts / Too many purposeless conversations / Too many time wasted on insignificant things, and many more wasted on more significant ones / Too many hours spent turning the living-room lights on and off for no reason / Too many drugs diluted in my blood stream / Too many kisses / Too many shaking hands with strangers / Too many shit / Too many diseases taking me to the hospital as a child / Too many pills / Too many travels through strange and far away lands / Too many languages spoken / Too many luggage lost in airports and books left on coffee tables / Too many signs sent to people around me / Too many emotion, too little motion / Too many years spent in college just to shatter completely the person that I was / Too many expectations / Too many wishes made with shooting stars crossing the night of my eyes / Too many of those wishes that never came true / Too many silences when I wasn't alone and too many confusion when I was / Too many pictures taken of places I’ll never return to / Too many parties I never was invited to, and many more I was requested to attain / Too many time trying to think or say something that really made some sense / Too many years trying not to be a clown but acting just like one / Too many precautions with my appearance / Too many Martinis / All this I had, and many more, and for too many time now I’m sure that I’ve always lived my life in the excess of everything / Which road should I follow from here? / Because I simply can’t stop now!

(Photography: London, England, November 2003 / Text: Coimbra, Portugal, June 14th, 2006)

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Neste mundo daqui

Quando o caos chegou à minha cidade eu fiquei. Todos fugiram, uns levando pertences e outros deixando-os absolutamente para trás. Entre gritos e tiros, paredes sendo derrubadas pela explosão de minas, ruas manchadas de um vermelho atroz porque de entranhas, eu fiquei. E não porque tinha inevitavelmente de ficar. Fiquei porque quis. Fiquei porque não fazia sentido que partisse, porque a parte alguma pertenceria jamais como àquele lugar. Fiquei porque estavam ali os meus sonhos e eu não os poderia nunca deixar sós.

Nessa amálgama de sangue e fome, mantive o meu corpo ileso à espera de que tudo passasse e de que pelo menos alguns dos que tinham partido regressassem para que eu os abraçasse de novo. E esperei. E todos os dias fazia exercícios com as mãos ao vento para as preparar para um novo abraço, para novas carícias que ainda não chegaram. Mas esperei, não fugi. Não fazia sentido, percebe-se? Fiz do medo esperança, fiz da fome força, fiz da escuridão a manta debaixo da qual me deitava e sonhava, sonhava… E por entre o brilho das estrelas desse meu cobertor de noite nunca esqueci o teu rosto! E quando as tropas pressionavam o uso das armas eu cobria-me e imaginava-me sempre contigo nas festas populares, dançando dançando dançando…

Se calhar deveria ter partido com todos os outros, com todos aqueles que me tentaram puxar dali para fora. Mas agora é tarde para tentar imaginar como poderia ter sido acaso tivesse sido diferente da forma como foi. Não faz sentido, entendem? Resolvi esperar e esperei sempre, mesmo quando a espera não comportava esperança. E fiz dela uma bandeira para a inevitabilidade de estar aqui, onde ainda estou, à tua espera.

(Fotografia: Nápoles, Itália, 23 de Fevereiro de 2006 / Texto: Coimbra, Portugal, 5 de Junho de 2006)

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Blue smell of the sea

Fireflies on warm summer nights, dancing over my grandparents garden, under the pale moonlight / Colourful crackers all over the small village, lighting the night sky for the festivities and being taken by the breeze / Candy cotton stuck to my small hands, tongue red from lollypops, all that music in the air / And the promise of a long and happy life…

Ice creams in winter, eaten under the heavy rain / Clothes soaking wet, dripping all over the house / Mum gently drying my hair / Dad washing my face, with his tobacco smelling hands / From the kitchen, that sweet smell of familiar harmony / Going to sleep already dreaming of a thousand white clouds in which to rest my body / Sensing a last kiss / Closing my eyes with that promise of a long and happy life…

Wearing red sweaters in Christmas, with open windows to let the sound of the church bells into the house / Books full of fairies and queens and horsemen chasing beautiful fantasies / The roar of the sea outside, saying goodnight to us all, and its blue blue smell / Seagulls at my window right in the morning, and presents just waiting to be opened / Within each one of them a promise of a long and happy life…

The full moon / The birth of a sister, a new presence in the house / A small puppy bought to do us company for a portion of our lives / Dragonflies in dry summer afternoons / The reflexion of my face in the pond, asking so many questions / The calling of grandmother for dinner / My knees bleeding from falling while climbing trees / Oranges eaten right under the burning sun / Dad coming from a trip bringing presents / Falling asleep in front of the TV / Feeling a little strange inside but yet, the promise of a long and happy life…

It's all gone now.

(Photography: Rome, Italy, March 2006 / Text: Coimbra, Portugal, June 2nd, 2006)

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