segunda-feira, 18 de julho de 2016

• I'm a bum ;-)

I'm a bum*. A vagabond. A lazy guy. To the extent that I don’t like to work. No longer like it. In today's world and with this age that I’ve reached, I see no point in working for more than just survive. 

I don’t have the same dreams of those who are beginning their lives. Like in my little daughter’s case. I no longer think so much on having my own house with a tropical garden and a swimming pool, on having once again a big car, on taking holidays in these dream destinations for the masses. 

What makes me dream today is to find an old soul like me and hang around together, all around the world. Sailing the seven seas. Climbing up to the highest mountains. Feel the wind ruffling our hair. Drinking water from all fountains. If only we can find the miraculous solution that will allow us to do this, forever and ever. 

Or, rather than plunge into nomadism, adopt the same sedentary life of this old soul like me, there in that place lost in this world where she is now living. And design our nest in a wonder duet. 

I’d like to find the craziest female in this world because only her will be able to cope with me.

I just love women. I love her, the female.

It might be just because this female - I’m not talking about anyone in particular here, but rather beau sexe specimen in general - seems to have a great body, which I would like to be allowed to worship. Or it can be her hair that looks gorgeous. Or the way she dresses. Or pose in the photos I take from her. Or walking in the streets in real life. Her naked legs. The way her feet move on the floor. Her breast, this so wonderful brand of femininity, which she proudly exhibits to the whole world to admire…

Ok… But it might be also because she seems to be a special human being. With that kind of intelligence not anyone else has: sensitivity.

Or even just for the plain pleasure of cooking and eating a meal together. The kitchen is also a place where I feel always to mostly let go free my self-alleged charms.

I enjoy as much to cuddle as I do cooking in a duo. That’s me.  ;-)

Speaking about cooking… I began to say in this post that I’m a lazy guy, that I don’t like to work… But perhaps one of the challenges I would mostly like to take is to open a restaurant**. And if that would be done along with my lifetime partner, that would sound perfect to me!…

Yes, that’s it. I’d like to find not only my lifetime partner - if not someone that I have found yet - and think of some challenges for us worthy to improve the years that we both have yet to live.

I would like us to leave our mark in this world, together. And not just make money for nothing.
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* I'm not yet a real bum… But I can turn out to be it one day, like this one who was the subject of this movie I wrote about in this post on another blog of mine.

** I even have drawn one time a business idea around this, summarized in this post on another blog of mine.

sábado, 25 de junho de 2016

• The Mushroom House

Uncomplicated people. They’re the only ones who can give names to things such as “Mushroom House”.

Vila Sassetti, at Quinta da Amizade, Sintra. That’s the place in these two photos, being this one on the right taken by me. Which has from now on a new designation. My personal angel baptized it this way. And that’s fine by me. 

It’s a much more cute name, la Maison Champignon.  ;-)

This vila had as first owner an italian gentleman, Victor Carlos Sassetti. It was designed too by an italian, Luigi Manini, the architect of Quinta da Regaleira. As for me, I have this italian nickname, Giuseppe Pietrini… 

However, an uncomplicated human being - this very same angel that I spoke about before, arrived from very faraway across this world - gave my portuguese real name a new reading sound: JUICY.

segunda-feira, 16 de maio de 2016

• Kishibe no Tabi - o filme

Domingo á tarde. Estou a mirar a zona ribeirinha da cidade de Lisboa a partir dos muros da Casa da Cerca, em Almada.

Fugi do burburinho para ali. A cidade onde nasci fervilha de forasteiros. De turistas vindos de países mais prósperos do que o meu e de emigrantes de países do outro extremo duma escala de bem-estar social.

Todos interagem uns com os outros, por vezes para desconforto de um destes dois lados. E seguem indiferentes ao inconsciente nervosismo que anda no ar por um terceiro lado, o dos locais, causado pelo ludopédio. Hoje é o dia duma supostamente grande decisão final.

Não sendo eu um extraterrestre - que eu saiba - sou um voyeur de toda esta realidade, como se não fizesse parte dela. E não faço mesmo. Sou um ser à margem.

Eu não vivo aqui em Lisboa, desde que para cá voltei, a 10 de Novembro passado. Já não me sinto confortável aqui. Este já não é mais o meu lugar. E se calhar nunca o foi.

Houve algo que mudou em mim. Já não reconheço as gentes e o lugar onde nasci e quase sempre vivi. Depois de um muito curto período em que me acreditei estar a viver em realidade virtual, num lugar bem distante. O mais distante daqui em que estive em toda a minha vã existência terrena.

Um lugar que apesar disso não deixou de me parecer algo familiar. Vá lá, o seu clima não era também absolutamente acolhedor... Mas deixou-me saudades de lá viver.

O lá ter estado fez-me perder as minhas raízes. De modo a que nunca mais vai ser possível recuperá-las.

Lá aprendi que a felicidade é mesmo possível. Mesmo que só a prazo, pouco dilatado no tempo. Mas intensa. Como eu nunca tinha antes imaginado.

Mesmo que pudesse ser mais sábio aprender a ser feliz sozinho, sem depender de ninguém, eu não o consigo conceber. A minha felicidade dependerá sempre de outro alguém.

Esse alguém de quem dependo, a vida me foi apresentando esse ser, de diversas formas.

Da última vez foi a mais perfeita. E das duas uma: ou tenho uma memória curta e sou ingrato ou porventura aprimorei os meus gostos pessoais e já não é qualquer um(a) que me leva e me tem.

Esta última e ainda bem recente vez só por milagre não se terá extinguido a sua chama. Mas a sua luz durou o tempo suficiente para eu ver mais além, uma vez mais.

Já me quedaria por esta perfeição e não iria querer mais, para o resto da minha vida. Mas se a coisa terá findado, porque não continuar a seguir este caminho e chegar um pouco mais longe? Ainda mais longe. Afinal, sei que é possível.

É pena. Pensei que era desta. Mas bom, há que conjugar algo mais do que apenas o querer estar junto. Há que trabalhar para que esse estar junto seja mais permanente.

Não pode ser da próxima vez mais uma breve aventura. Não pode ser outra vez um salto sem preparação. Sem balanço.

Ou então, que seja um recomeço tal como a fantasia que este filme, “Kishibe no Tabi", conta. Seria lindo, se assim fosse.

Nesta história - que em português recebeu o título “Rumo à Outra Margem”, curiosamente* - um casal regressa a sê-lo, após os dois terem estado separados por três anos. Sem notícias um do outro.

E assim como se um deus estalasse os dedos, recomeçam de repente juntos. Sem cobranças. Sem perguntas. Só com a sede de quererem estar juntos de novo.

E vão de mãos dadas e ombros colados descobrir novos lugares. Lugares onde pode ser que a felicidade exista. Sempre maior do que antes.

Afinal, porque não há-de sê-lo?

Quando se tem o meu actual estado de espírito, partir à descoberta de novos lugares é o melhor que nos pode acontecer. Mas a sós de nada adiantará partir, receio…
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Nota: o website oficial deste filme, apenas disponível para leitura em japonês, pode ser acedido clicando aqui.

* A Casa da Cerca, aonde eu rumei no domingo passado, fica naquilo a que os lisboetas costumam chamar de “a outra margem”. Curiosamente, senti esta necessidade de ir para lá.

quinta-feira, 28 de abril de 2016

• Mais um fim…

Ás vezes o melhor serviço - ou favor, ou benção - que podemos fazer áquela pessoa que amamos é livrá-la de nós. Quando as palavras desta gritam por que esse fim aconteça.

domingo, 13 de março de 2016

• Este blog

Este blog talvez tenha perdido a sua derradeira razão de existir.

Eu encontrei - justamente graças a este blog um pouco também mas não só - aquela que é a pessoa neste mundo com quem eu mais gostaria de estar junto.

Este blog nasceu quando eu ainda estava a viver na minha última união de facto. Quando essa relação estava já condenada a um fim próximo. Mas eu não o sabia. E feliz nessa ignorância tola, deu-me para brincar.

No começo quis brincar de ser um Coluche à portuguesa. O intuito primeiro era tentar prejudicar, nem que fosse ao de leve, uma provável reeleição de um presidente do meu país, que se vinha revelando - e confirmou totalmente no fim da missão em que acreditou a que se podia alcandorar, para nosso mal colectivo - ser o pior presidente da história da nossa jovem democracia.

Isto poderia começar a acontecer se algumas outras pessoas em número suficiente para tal começassem também a ligar um mínimo de importância a este palhaço pobre que eu sou. Mas nem em minha casa atrai atenções…

O tal presidente que ficará conhecido para sempre como “a múmia” lá foi levado ao colo para o seu segundo mandato… E eu resolvi não desistir de escrever palhaçadas e debutar sem mais delongas uma plausivelmente longa pré-campanha de cinco anos até à seguinte eleição* presidencial na Lusitânia. 

E depois pensei melhor. E porque não brincar antes de ser candidato a algo maior ainda do que apenas ser um símbolo de uma nação tão pequerrucha? E lá apareceu a ideia luminosa de querer brincar de ser um futuro condutor da humanidade, no lugar de presidente das Nações Unidas.

Entrementes no campo sentimental, a minha relação amorosa, eterna de já nove longos e arrastados anos, acabou.

E eu levei desde então estes quase cinco anos para perceber uma realmente boa razão - assim mesmo para valer - para ter acabado. Mas encontrei-a.

Depois do solstício de verão do ano passado, eu descobri que é mesmo possível eu encontrar uma genuína alma gêmea.

É que já tinha quase perdido toda a esperança!… 

Não estou com essa alma gêmea neste preciso momento. Já estive, mais de um mês inteiro. Num lugar que foi o mais longínquo a que até agora nesta minha existência pus os pés.

Não sei se voltarei algum dia a estar de novo em comunhão com esta alma gêmea. Mas a esperança que com ela renasceu não morrerá jamais. Com ela ou de novo a sós, eu sei que vou ser feliz. Eu sei como não deixar de ser feliz.

Este blog é hoje como que um diário. Ninguém o lê a não ser eu. É um blog privado agora, a pedido de quem comigo privou os últimos pedaços de vida feliz que aqui relatei nas múltiplas luas que decorreram desde que estou só de novo e de volta a esta terra onde já tive raízes. Que hoje estão perdidas.

Às vezes releio o que escrevi aqui neste blog. Que já fez seis anos de vida no dia 2 deste mês!… E com uma frequência maior do que eu esperaria, não me revejo integralmente nos pensamentos que aqui fui gravando nesta pedra virtual.

O que pode significar que cresci. E que isso pode ser devido ao convívio com a alma gêmea do meu inesquecível 55º aniversário.

Assenta hoje sobre este blog um silêncio de cartuxa. E é talvez assim que tem de ser. Mas como já la dizia o grande vate…

Mudam-se os tempos, mudam-se as vontades, 
Muda-se o ser, muda-se a confiança: 
Todo o mundo é composto de mudança, 
Tomando sempre novas qualidades. 

Continuamente vemos novidades, 
Diferentes em tudo da esperança: 
Do mal ficam as mágoas na lembrança, 
E do bem (se algum houve) as saudades. 

O tempo cobre o chão de verde manto, 
Que já coberto foi de neve fria, 
E em mim converte em choro o doce canto. 

E afora este mudar-se cada dia, 
Outra mudança faz de mor espanto, 
Que não se muda já como soía. 

 - Luís Vaz de Camões, in "Sonetos" 

Creio que por agora disse tudo o que era mister dizer e citei o que era mister citar. E sinto-me livre.


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* Que foi justamente há dois meses atrás. E um sol radioso regressou ao meu país. Já temos, somente há menos de uma semana, um novo presidente da nossa res publica que anda por aí a brincar de ser um novo Messias. E ainda bem. Ele sabe como fazê-lo. O outro nunca o soube. Nem queria. E até eu talvez não fizesse melhor do que o actual inquilino de Belém…

quinta-feira, 25 de fevereiro de 2016

• The soulmate myth

“Love is when you don't look for anyone else"
- unknown author

Girl, you showed me something that I can't forget: paradise.

By your side, even routines like a walk to an S-Market store to buy some groceries was like flying above the highest clouds level. Those were the times when I was getting sure I had finally found my soulmate in this life.

Now, after more than 3 months that we are not living together, you told me that we will have always a certain connection.

But I don’t want to have just a certain connection with you. I wish that having me could be the main goal of the rest of your life.

quinta-feira, 14 de janeiro de 2016

• Montagne della follia*

Questo può suonare come follia - un sacco di follia - ma qui va...

Ho una maledizione che deve essere quella tipica di tutti dal segno zodiacale Scorpione. Le mie parole fanno male alle persone. Il mio silenzio anche fa male alle persone. I miei atti fanno male alle persone. La mia mancanza di azione anche fa male alle persone.

Questa non è la prima volta nella mia vita che riconosco questa maledizione. Ma ora sembra che si fa male più di tutti i tempi. E mi fa male in cambio tanto.

Per abbassare i danni, forse dovrei essere tranquillo. Meglio stare in silenzio nel mio angolo. Ma... Ho questa cosa che mi porta a scrivere sulla mia follia. Per controllarla. Guardarla in faccia. Affrontarla. E poi, niente ci perseguita come le cose che non dicono.

In cima a tutto questo, io sono una tripla Scorpione, come qualcuno una volta mi ha detto e mi ha lasciato con questo fatto che io sono orgoglioso di dire su di me. Senza alcun motivo particolare. A meno che suona grazioso alla mia vanità.

Dopo, il mio segno cinese è il Topo. E mi piace moltissimo una ragazza che è... Serpente.

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* “Mountains of Madness”, in italian. As Howard Phillips Lovecraft, an horror fiction american author, has referred to the "strange and disturbing” paintings of Nicholas Roerich, also known as Nikolai Konstantinovich Rerikh, who in his turn was a russian painter, writer, archaeologist, theosophist, enlightener, philosopher and public figure. In his youth was influenced by a movement in russian society around the occult. More info about him can be found at the Estonian Roerich Society website, clicking here.

terça-feira, 12 de janeiro de 2016

• Let's hold hands and go!

You know what?… Sometimes I wish to challenge you to do something you might not be able to accept. Sometimes I wish we could just hold our hands and escape to a desert island, just the two of us.

I know, it’s utopic… It’s too foolish, too romantic, etc… But… That’s what I would like us to do.

And besides, we know already what it is us living on a desert island. We experienced it. Inside a flat.

domingo, 10 de janeiro de 2016

• Sweet n' sour

That’s what you are, girl. Sweet and sour. And perhaps that’s why I love you. Because you’re not just sweet…

But when you are, you are generously sweet. And you are still keeping inside you so much sweetness, I can guess.

Sour, you’re not too sour… It’s just me who is compelled to feel your sourness deeper.

I think I love you to the last drop of blood in my body. Or I should... I must... I need to... It's YOU! I think… Maybe I should not think so much. Maybe I just should… feel.

We lived in what I feel today was a fine harmony, for more than a month together. Could it be possible that we would live like that until the end of our lives?… There I go again, thinking too much!…

I woke up today with these words in my mind. Maybe they are not perfect. But at least they are spontaneous. Maybe that’s how art should be. Spontaneous rather than perfect.

To love is an art. On which I’m far from being perfect. Yet. But at least I hope to be always true. To myself at first. And afterwards to my unfortunate beloved one too.

Maybe these words have been dictated to me. From up above. I suspect I never before had these words deep inside me. Or even that it was possible.

What will people think about these words one day if they read them?… Should I care? Will I even be here in this world still?…

I strongly hope someone could read them, soon. This is my message in a bottle. I hope someone could save me. From myself.

Will it be you, girl?… Was it you, all along? Do you, after all, need me to save you, too?… Oh, that’s right, you don’t need anyone. You don’t need to be saved in the first place. The sourness in you will never leave you admit anything that I say. Not to me.

I still like much more your sweetness. You have it even in your tears.

sexta-feira, 8 de janeiro de 2016

• C’est quoi ça, être un poète?..

“Il est mortel de se moquer d’un poète, 
d’aimer un poète, d’être un poète.”
- Robert Graves, in "La Déesse Blanche"

Cet citation m’a paru la première fois que je l'ai lu, soudain comme un coup de foudre, être mon parfait miroir. 

Suis-je un poète?… Parait-il qu’il est mortel d’être moi. Et de m’aimer, aussi. Je cause du mal aux gens qui ose me connaitre à fond. Et que j’ose aimer en retour, malheureusement.

Ne vous moquez pas de moi non plus, quand je oserai questionner si quand-même… Les poètes n’ont jamais trop de sous dans sa poche?… Bof, alors je suis un poète.

Plutôt ne pas être un poète. Si j'avais suffisamment, pas trop d’argent, je m’acheterais une maison. Oú je désirerai de vivre avec mon ange à moi.

Ensuite je crois bien que nous aurions envie d'héberger beaucoup de ces anges, nos bons amis, qui sont toujours en voyage autour de ce monde, tous ensemble autour de la chaude cheminée de notre foyer et d'un bon vin moscatel, qui garde en soi toute la chaleur du soleil de l'été à ce beau pays oú je suis né.

Regardons bien: si j'ai mélangé la poésie avec l'argent, c'est parce que, comme le bon vieux Robert Graves a aussi dit un jour…

J'espère que les anges m'écoutent et me puissent aider à accomplir ma supérieur mission de ce chaud amour humain. Y a pas de meilleur usage qu'on puisse faire de l'argent que peut nous toucher un jour avec la bonne chance.  ;-)

Que les dieux puissent reconnaitre ce talent que je crois ils m'ont bien donné. Ça pourrait aider aussi à générer ce que mon ange à moi a appelé "the energy of money", un tout nouveau concept pour moi, à ce jour-lá qu'elle l'a verbalisé. À voir...

Alea jacta est.

terça-feira, 5 de janeiro de 2016

• The most powerful drug

On this rainy day here where I stand, too far from you, girl, I wish to ask angels just one thing: that you can be as happy or even more than you made me feel when I realized what it means when you said that "you are rich and grateful, because you have now even more love in your life than you never thought to be" possible.

I love you like I never loved anyone else before in my life or will I ever love.

You are the supreme love of my life, kallis ingel.

Despite of all the hard times we both are living these days, each one of us on their corner of the world, the important thing is that YOU feel this love inside you.

And that you can find happiness on having this feeling, that allow you to keep on fighting for your dreams and goals.

I feel grateful and happy to know this from you. Because when you will be happy, no matter what the cause, I will be happy too.

Yesterday you wished me head õõd and to sleep well. And I started to miss when we could held our hands tightly.

We shall held them once again one day soon, I believe. The order of the universe demands so to maintain its balance.

Our hugs too were my life fuel. I miss our hugs. It's too hard to live without our hugs. Hugging anyone else but you won't do. I feel it.

Receiving your hug is the most powerful drug there is in this world!… Well, I was never on drugs in all my life, but I can't imagine any other drug more powerful.

You're right. I just got what I deserved. And so did you, girl. We did.


sexta-feira, 1 de janeiro de 2016

• Só no acto do amor

“Só no acto do amor - pela límpida abstracção de estrela 
do que se sente - capta-se a incógnita do instante 
que é duramente cristalina e vibrante no ar e a vida é esse 
instante incontável, maior que o acontecimento em si.”
 - Clarice Lispector

It was almost midnight. It was dark. It was cold, too. Cold as I rarely had felt so cold in my life.

We were walking back home. Through this park between the expresso linja-autoasema and the great lake. By the side of this small lakes, where we see sometimes pairs of swans, called the Pikku Vesijärvi.

My backpack was heavy. Or was it yours that I was carrying, I don’t remember. My steps were quick and mechanical. I was very selfishly wishing to get back to your home warmth. Not caring about your own wishes, if you would like to enjoy the cold of the night little bit more. Or watch the moonlight. Or search for your dear swan, once again.

In my mind were wandering some negative thoughts. That I was not sharing with you. Thoughts like that I was living then perhaps the last days in my life by your side.

I went one day to meet you, in this faraway land where you live. In order to discover how fine it would be to live by your side. I never could have imagine, not even in my wildest dreams, it would turn out to be this great!...

Down to earth... My nose was always runny. And in some moment, all of a sudden, you stopped me. And you wanted badly to kiss me. And then we hugged each other.

I thought to myself while our lips were glued, “Well, if is this what you want now, I will stand the cold for as long as it takes. You started this kiss, you will determine when we will end it.”.

You showed me how you loved me when I was least deserving it. And when I was least expecting it.

See oli üks puhas, helde ja tõsi tegude armastust keegi minu elus kunagi pani mind elama!...

Ma arvan, et ma olen payed sulle tagasi, et žest, vaid mõne sammu eemale, et kohapeal... Ma ärkasin üksi täna hommikul selle 1. jaanuar pea meeles, et ülev het.


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Note: It was not intentional… But I started this post and ended it writing in our mother languages. And in the middle, there’s a story written in english, this unique language we can use to communicate between ourselves, my sweet dear angel.

quinta-feira, 31 de dezembro de 2015

• Kiitos!

When I was recently in their country, one thing I’ve appreciated about finns was that they usually say “Kiitos” when they are getting out of the bus where they had been traveling.

It’s such a sweet behaviour! I always looked at it as finns were thinking that bus drivers are angels who have the mission of bringing them safely to their destination.

And besides, I love so much the sound of this finnish magic word, “Kiitos”!… So cuddly it sounds!... As also that word, “Mitä”, which I've also heard so often in their mouths.

Every time I have heard them said “Kiitos”, I wandered even if the bus driver would listen to them. I reckon it’s not important if bus drivers listen or not. People still say “Kiitos”, anyway. So they can have their consciences clean.

I’ve had several bus trips in Finland. Never alone. Always with the companionship of my personal angel, a second one besides the regular bus driver. Second but the most important one.

And not only bus trips but also tram, expresso bus, train, metro and ferry trips. And rides on private cars. All this thanks to my personal angel. To whom I must say “Aitäh”. Always and forever.

Aitäh, because I’ve got from this angel of mine this above described “full package and services”. But it was not for free.

I had to get there, in Finland, in the first place. And I’ll have to pay that in the next months or even years. Perhaps with slave work. And if I even have the chance to get it. But that I knew it before deciding my departure. It was and still is a risk I gladly took. My angel had often invited me to go and meet her. How could I think twice then?...

"I need you here by my side", she repeatedly told me... Until I could not hold myself back anymore. Any arguments of mine to not going seemed like excuses I invented to myself.

I looked at my credit card and said to myself, what the heck, this is going to be useful for something. If needed, I'm going to spend my available sold like there is no tomorrow. I know, it's a very foolish way to act and think...

I also gave this angel my time. More than a month of my life. But that I got back as well. With large interests. Although, I missed some fine opportunities to make my life more sustainable by not staying in my country, Portugal.

I tried to help this angel, whenever possible. We were both cleaning lady and sir, sometimes. Finn house owners seem to see in my angel a great human being. But I doubt if they really know her immense value, like I do.

I went with her to some direct selling companies events, too. On which I was not of great help, because I felt somehow reluctant to give my time to these. I was there not totally available to other people, as it would be supposed of me to behave.

I went also to some social events. To gatherings at some friends houses. Where despite of always had been welcome by people, I felt sometimes uncomfortable. Because I was for some rare moments separated from this personal angel of mine. And had to share her attention with others. When in a selfish way I would like to have all her time to me.

I’d like to escape with her to a desert island, just the two of us. But I reckon it would be asking too much. I don’t have the power or the merit to ask or desire that.

And besides, I don’t know if the Helsinki bus card that she said for me to keep it - in case I would be able to use it one day in the future - if its credits will be worth for anything on any of the hundreds of desert small islands of Finland. Or that idyllic small country to the south across the Baltic sea.

Someone wrote "givers have to set limits because takers never do". I know how takers behave. I’m a taker, as well. But at least as a taker I know how to be grateful. I often say “Kiitos” to my givers. And when I’m one of those, a giver too, I don’t set limits while I have still anything of mine to give.

Unfortunately for myself, I'm a poor man. Like Saint Joseph, the father of Christ, was too. The financial resources that were available for me to put my hands on sold out too quickly. Due to some several bus and train trips. That I didn't foresee it in advance, before my arrival at this mythical Vantaa airport.

To my angel I have been every since my first day in the land of the thousand lakes a burden. As far as our food supplies were concerned, she always was doing the major efforts to buy these. But there was more expenses which my presence in her daily life brought to her.

I purchased my Lisbon-Helsinki two-way flight ticket with a return date that would allow me to pay the least as possible. Still in Lisbon, my almost random choice was November, the 10th. I calculated all my money would last for staying about a month.

We thought afterwards, while I was already in Lahti, of changing this return date to some day after this last Christmas, at the most. But this change would cost me an amount of money that wouldn't be available to me anymore. Not to mention that my angel would be forced to spend more and more resources with me, as well as her. And this angel is not a rich one, either.

I had to leave my angel to stay alone, once again. This was hard for me to do but even more for her to accept. The expectations I raised on her about me were defrauded. That's a thing she has never forgive me. And she's completely right.

I suffer from being apart from her. But that's nothing compared to what she has been standing for. Nothing. I feel like being this self-assumed monster mentioned by the divine Clarice Lispector, this wonderful mixture of a member of a Lithuanian Jewish family, born in Ukraine, raised and lived most of her life as a Brazilian citizen.

I have my moods, that’s right. Everybody has them. U2, my sweetest angel. And I won’t say anything more about it.

You say you’re not a thing to be thrown away. It's only fair. No one is. I’d like to think neither am I.

Aitäh, kallis ingel. I feel I must have went out of the bus now. But I don’t know where I am. Or where to go from here. Anyway, I will figure it out alone. One more time.

I’ve had one of the most happy semesters of my life, ending at the same time as this year of 2015. Kiitos!

Kiitos, as well, for the inspiration you gave me to write these pathetic lines today and some of the posts since the end of June. And a New Year is knocking at the door, already.

I wish at least we could stay good friends in 2016. But I'm afraid my words - any words that I may pronounce, whatsoever - will not be understood no more.

The monster that I am is going to start to ask his forgiveness directly to the gods. Not to angels. I often used to say I am an angel too. Now, I've been expelled from paradise. I'm the only one to blame. And that's not the first time it happens.

Should this be what christians call an "Act of Contrition"?... Well, this is me. This is my wonderland. This is my life.