segunda-feira, outubro 19, 2009


I arrive at a homeland. Still feeling like a stranger among my people.

This is the town where I departed from. My home. But I’m not the same, now.

For an instant, I can observe the place where I was born with the eyes of a tourist, a traveler. Someone distant.

I take a picture. I never thought this street was so pretty. Yet, I miss the place I last came from. My clothes and my bag conserve its odor. There is a memory that doesn't want to be forgotten.
... ...
The word "saudade" was also born here. And it had never made so much sense as it does now: the moment I became someone else.

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