my life.

the nights always seem to go in the same direction, following the same plot like a worn-out song, repeated indefinitely, forgotten in some turning point, spending time here and there and in the morning you will be all that is left, all over the room, all over our bodies, all over our memories, together with sweated sheets, cuddling pillows, heavy tea drinking, chocolate tasting sessions, honey all over ourselves, short periods of sleep after long periods of pure delight, dawn whispering about sharing life emotions and experiences, small sips of wine, muzzak, capricious demands, weird unspoken thoughts, fierce order, laughing without reason or purpose, cheap filled cookies with intense flavour, rolling on each other, flip flapping and slip sliding.

my life is just a porn movie with pretty songs.

será que sou eu...

... ou hoje todos os anúncios de emprego encaixam em mim?

der kleine maus geht nach berlin.

source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/berlin

running september.

the month started with a middle-age revival party. the only thing I can remember is the living animals hanging around me with some kind of bells while I was drinking whichever bottle I could grab in the midst of dust, food and recorded speeches.

then came the week. jammed nose, sore throat, coughing my lungs out, managed to survive running around until people started to visit me in a hurry. the mornings turned into hangovers, the afternoons grew to trying-to-fool-the-boss-I'm-awake periods, the evenings to same-old-stuff alcohol tasting sessions and the nights to anything I can remember. some trains departed, planes took off, kissing, hugging, missing, calling, coffee, coffee, coffee.

didn't feel like a month, really, more like a fantasy, felt like a tourist browsing the streets thinking in english, working like a dog from nine to midnight and still being able to find the energy to run around and the guts to write based on the usual drink+cigarretes remedy.

hope this one goes better.