(Português) A neve não pára de cair. As nuvens não deixam de passar. Há um céu azul por todo o lado. Ursos brancos a rodopiar. Um ambiente espiritual de último grau. Uma cena de fim de tarde numa terra santa. Não se sabe se é um telefonema ou uma forma de pensar, de ligar à consciência. Que quer dizer a água em flocos, alguém consegue explicar? Um chamamento divino? Ou será apenas a bateria a ficar fraca?
I don’t know, maybe this is only about the Khaleej and Solano winds. Two of the most powerful winds on Earth. They blow. They tear down. Every living creature. Every city. Every pile of wood. Dusting the lamp with dark that even dusk can’t trail to tell.
Do you still want the bed? It’s on its way. I made it myself. Wait, I have a new surprise. I’m just waiting for a chance to tell you. Do you let me speak? Or is it not necessary? I can do everything in gestures. It’s funnier. And scream too. Speechless. May I? God, it’s all so breathless!
At the check-in counter they said this would be a very good seat for me. They were totally right. It was like they knew me all along. Mister Joid, they said. It’s true I’m surrounded by women. Some stunners. Some better than that.