DESPEDIDA

Por pouco perdia o sentido da mudanca, quase virou e voltou ao mesmo. E fui tentado a bater a porta da taverna que fechou quando eu sai, deixei meio copo cheio na mesa, mas ocorreu-me: Nao valia a pena voltar atras pelo copo meio vazio. Nao posso deixar de sentir um certo remorso, quase inteligivel, nao se percebe - sente-se.

I somehow thought G would have a say, but he'd rather not notice it. Its a bit of a shame if he misses these roots, but in the end...

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

At the time I started writing the Lisbon essays, I also germinated a thought of a work started years later. I think its fair to say a piece of literature can makes feel different emotions while developing it, but in cases it is really mind blowing. I cant really take to this and the lack of contact with that world left me drifting.

Now I feel I have to finish it just to ease the creative tension, but I have used the excuse of the lack of a Portuguese keyboard quite convenient. Creativity easily becomes painful when alt.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This entry is just a record for the progress of that piece, hoping that it fits well with a different approach to visual memory.