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Breathing is light and serene morning grows up warm and bright in the skin the body doesn't desire to get dressed. A respiração é leve e serena a manhã cresce cálida e rútila na pele o corpo não deseja

There is something indelible in late afternoon almost night as if the tenderness that falls on the warm and humid city was a sensual curtain that hides you from me behind the window I look on the treetops at the avenue they drip varnishes on parked cars

My high school colleague, friend and great writer Antóno Lobo Antunes, several times designated as candidate to the Nobel Prize of Literature, frequently says isn't him the writer: he only gives home to the stream of falling words on the paper which

A few days ago, my step daughter Cristina Brito went to the beach but forgot her Moleskine Notebook. The only similar thing she had on hand was an old Círculo de Leitores novel, in the handag, for travelling reading. It was there in the margins and blank