Sorry, this entry is only available in European Portuguese.
A coisa não é para menos. Estamos nos primeiros dias do ano e os rubis estão à espera. É uma longa história. De aiaineses, criptões e uinãos. Não, não queiram ler. Não é sobre Hong Kong, se querem saber. Nem Las Vegas. E daqui não levam nenhum segredo. Ainda se põem para aí aos tirinhos. Mas fica o aviso: Russell não é para meninos!
(Português) Roy Batty, o último Replicant para além de mim. Fomos concebidos para durar pouco. Quatro anos no máximo. Mas por alguma vertigem que me escapou da fuselagem continuo aqui. Não está cá mais ninguém. Roy foi o último a partir. Sem grito e sem dor. É dele que agora me prolongo. Perdido nesta imortalidade que me habita. Onde não há saída.
The Captain doesn’t show any signs of softening up. He ordered us all to move into one of the ships and turned the others to flames. He himself set them alight. And, since he was further away, the Captain swam to the Manhattan set it on fire and crashed it against the Cobain turning the two vessels in a huge hellish burst of flame.
I recall walking hundreds of times on the old bridge, where the mind flows like nowhere else. Nothing can symbolize a city like that connection. The bridge that from day to day builds a river in its entrails in a sin of fantasy.
I tried to see your face in the face of the others. That unpopulated nation. Deconstructing the face of everyone or adding them one by one. To find you. Macanese, is what the verb rings. The being of this land. That endless commitment. Which brings nothing of concrete.
A red car parked on the middle of the road. Two men. Doors should be closed after opened. They don’t. Sunshine. A breeze. Still the scent of some distant sea coming from the backseat of that big fat wheeler. All about a dream. Everything to be decided now.
Count to ten. You shut your eyes, if you want, until you reach it. Then you know. There’s nothing less to loose. One needs to move on. Always.
I was raised by who I always called my grandfather. Even if he was not my relative, he was the one who caught out of some full roaring bike, that was hanged on a tree, with my whole life upside down. That’s where I have started.