A portrait of the Lisbon Book Public Market 2014 - 1st part
Utopia, at the book fair, was the putrid smell of impossible dreams but also the flowers alone, abandoned on the floor, in their purplish blue, drunk smell of the pollen, that where able to prostrate themselves at my side, in their indecent innocence...
Crazy Summer dreams, trapped in a paper container, like fries with sauces, eaten there by myself, condemned to be, at the very end, only a memory, a warm sky with an unnamed color ... no words to describe. A symbol of a way that words do not allow us to follow. So just a dream, despised by many but not by me during that beloved visit.