Epilogue: Into the Future

He left Lisbon behind him without regret. He had looked into the future and trembled at its sight. He had seen the big machine eating him alive. He had felt his individuality crumble. He had wept at the sight of the metallic beast ripping his hear out and replacing it with a tracking device. He had beheld how the monster opened his skull and feasted on his brains. It thus became clear to him that his only true option was to run away from the beast in order to avoid its deadly embrace. The beast, of course, was society.

            Portugal was too small for him. In the months that he had spent there he had started to feel increasingly claustrophobic. One by one all the reasons that had spiked him to leave Lisbon when he was a teenager came running back to him. Now that he had left again he realized that he could never have stayed very long. His idea of leading a normal life in Lisbon had always been an illusion.

            He wasn’t like his friends. He didn’t belong there. If he stayed in Lisbon he could enjoy some stability, but this was not enough for him. He needed a purpose in life. He needed to reach for the stars. He needed to travel around the world and be one with humanity. He felt that the borders of one tiny country were like a leash to him, strangling him every time he wanted to roam free. So he cut the leash and ran away from what he thought was a particular kind of slavery. He breathed in the cold winter’s air. He breathed in the air of freedom.

            His family didn’t accept his departure well. They blamed him for his recklessness, told him he was naïve and claimed that he was running away from his future. What they didn’t know was that in a certain sense that was exactly what he was trying to do. He wanted to escape the future he had seen. A future without real independence, a future filled with conformity to the rules of a society in which he could not fit in, in which he didn’t want to fit in. He had pledged to abandon all safety and all fear and to live his life the way he wanted to live it. Like a pirate, like an adventurer. In Lisbon he felt dead. On the road he felt alive again.

            Leonardo had left Lisbon almost suddenly. He warned his family, his friends and his employer of his decision less than a week before leaving the city. There was no other way. The longer he stayed in Lisbon, the greater was the risk of being dissuaded by his family or his more conservative friends to stay. He didn’t want to risk that happening. Also, with New Year’s Eve approaching, Leonardo felt that it was an opportunity to start a new stage of his life and the year that was coming at the same time. Everyone makes New Year resolutions, but they seldom accomplish them. His resolution was to follow his heart and he was accomplishing it immediately. Ground Zero: A New future ahead waiting for him somewhere along the road.

            The bus crossed the Portuguese and Spanish countryside, cruising through the winter night. When he woke up, Leonardo was already in Madrid. As he had done so many times in the past, he took the metro to his uncle’s place in the downtown area.

            When he reached his destination, he walked up the subway stairs, emerging into a dark and cold city. He buttoned up his jacket up to his neck and his teeth chattered as he walked towards his uncle’s apartment which was located at Calle San Bernardo.

            He rang the bell and waited for his uncle to open the door to the building. It took him a minute, but Leonardo managed to resist the temptation of ringing the bell again.

            When the old elevator reached the third floor, Leonardo’s first sight was that of Spartacus, euphorically wiggling his tail and barking at him. ‘Shush Spartacus, you’re gonna wake up the neighbours!’ his uncle hissed at the dog, an over-excitable eight-year-old German Sheppard. ‘Come in Leo. Did you have a good trip?’

            ‘Yes uncle. Thanks for letting me stay with you for a couple of days.’

            ‘Don’t mention it. It’s great to have you around for a few days. We missed you,’ he said, referring to himself as well as Spartacus who was now jumping on Leonardo, threatening to knock him down on the floor. Leonardo was trying his best to calm the beast, hugging and petting him.

            ‘I hope I didn’t wake you up uncle. I’m sorry for arriving this early in the morning.’

            ‘It’s alright really. I had to wake up at some point. This way we can have breakfast together, you must be hungry.’

            ‘Yeah, actually I’m a bit hungry. That would be great!’

‘So, what do you wanna have for breakfast?’ asked Leonardo’s uncle as they entered the kitchen.

‘I dunno… what are you having?

‘Orange juice and toast with strawberry jam,’ his uncle said after examining the contents of his fridge for a bit.

‘That sounds great’, said Leonardo who abruptly realized that he was even hungrier than he had thought. He hadn’t eaten anything in more than ten hours after all.

‘Well… I gotta say I was a bit surprised when your mum told me you were going to come this way,’ said his uncle as he gave him a tray with a glass of orange juice and a plate with two strawberry jam toasts on it, ‘I thought you had found a job at a newspaper in Lisbon…’

‘Yeah… that didn’t turn out that great though…’

‘What happened? You didn’t like it?’

‘I just don’t think it was the right thing to do at this point of my life…’

‘Yeah? How so?’

‘Well, I’m not sure how I can explain this to you… Haven’t you ever felt like you were living a life that wasn’t the life you wanted to live?’

‘Yeah… that was the way I felt before I came to Europe actually.’ Leonardo’s uncle had moved to Europe from Brazil at the age of 23 in search of a somehow more sophisticated way of living. After spending some years living in Germany he moved to Spain where he finally settled.

‘Did you find the thing you were looking for here in Europe?’ asked Leonardo.  He had always enjoyed talking to his uncle. He found him a lot more sincere than most people of his age. 

‘Well you see Leo, it’s really hard to ever find the thing “we are looking for”, whatever that might be, but I don’t regret one bit having moved to Europe. I think it’s important to travel and to try to find a place where we feel comfortable at. In Rio I can’t say I felt very comfortable. Although I was born there, I never truly bonded with the place, whereas here I feel a greater affinity to the people and their culture. You know, you mum asked me to convince you to go back home and ask for your job back…’

‘I’m not surprised. That’s definitely something she would do…’

‘Yep.’

‘What did you say to her?’

‘Well you know what your mum is like… It’s hard to say no to her… so I told her I would try to dissuade you from travelling to… by the way where are you planning to go next?

‘I don’t know actually…’

‘Yeah… but the thing is, I think that if you’re not happy in Lisbon you should try to find another place where you can be happy at. It would be very hypocritical for me to tell you anything different. What do you think about spending some time in Madrid? You can stay with us. Maybe you’ll like it here.’

‘Thanks uncle, that’s very kind of you. I’ll think about it. But I think I need to travel for a bit before I settle somewhere. Besides, I’ve been thinking that maybe I would like to spend some time in France and improve my French. Maybe that’s a good place to start looking for a new beginning.’

‘France… it actually sounds good. Well, I think I’m gonna sleep a little bit more… would you mind taking Spartacus out?’

‘No problem. Uncle…’

‘Yeah Leo?’

‘Thanks for listening to me and supporting me.’

‘You don’t need to thank me Leo. I always try to listen to you. After all, you’re the one who knows best what makes you happy…’

Leonardo took Spartacus out into the cold city, just in time to see the sun rise. It was the first day of the New Year. The streets were almost deserted in downtown Madrid. It was just too early and too cold for people to be walking around on a holiday.  In fact, most of the people roaming the streets appeared to be still up from the night before, on their way home after having partied all night long. His friends back in Lisbon had almost begged Leonardo to stay just one more day so they could spend the last night of the year together, and throw him a proper kickass goodbye party. Leonardo had politely declined their requests, claiming that he felt that the longer he stayed the bigger the chance of him losing his nerve and postponing or even cancelling his trip into the unknown.

He walked Spartacus to a little park where his uncle usually took him to fulfill his biological needs two times a day, once in the morning and one in the evening after coming home from work. While he was waiting for Spartacus to finish “doing his thing”, Leonardo suddenly thought of his last New Year’s Eve, which he had spent in the company of his friends in Leeds. He then remembered that Jean-Pierre had told him, soon after they had finished their final exams that he wanted to move to Madrid after the summer, where his ex-girlfriend and long-time love Marta lived. On his way home, Leonardo decided to try to contact Jean-Pierre by email so if he was indeed in Madrid they could meet up again.

It turned out that Jean-Pierre was indeed in Madrid, where he’d been for the past three months. They met at a nice bar at Gran Via that evening, in order to catch up….

“Dude, Africa is fucking crazy! You wouldn’t believe me if I told you some of the shit that happened to me while I was there!” Jean-Pierre was just like Leonardo had remembered him. He was the tallest guy at the bar, a small place where you can relax while drinking good wine and eating delicious tapas. His skin was black as coal and his teeth were as white as ivory. While talking to Leonardo, he got really excited, like friends usually do when they meet after spending a long time without seeing each other. He was a little bit skinnier than Leonardo remembered him, although he still kept a rather athletic appearance. He was wearing, like he usually did, a cool hat, this one was brown and round and gave him a hip look along with his brand-named, elegant clothing and expensive Italian shoes. His sophisticated look contrasted quite a bit with Leonardo’s eternal t-shirt, jeans, and worn-out Converse shoes grunge look.

“Did you get everything done, though?” asked Leonardo, after taking a sip of his glass of red wine.

“Yeah, yeah, but you know what it’s like… well actually you don’t… Everything is complicated in Africa man! And then there’s the whole corruption thing. But in the end everything turned out just fine. I managed to finish my dissertation and sort out my stuff in the Congo.”

“That’s good, dude. I’m glad to hear that. So when did you come to Madrid?”

“Well, I told you when we were still in Leeds that my plan was to come to Madrid as soon as I handed in my dissertation and sorted out my stuff.   I’ve been here since the end of September. I’ve been living at Marta’s place since then.”

“That’s great, man! Congratulations. How did you convince Marta to get back together with you?”

“Well, that wasn’t hard. I called her from Belgium and I told her that I really wanted to come see her. At first she was a bit reluctant but she ended up being okay with it. So I came here and you know how it is, my charm did the rest.”

“Always confident, aren’t you, you crazy bastard?” asked Leonardo, laughing.  “So have you found a job yet?”

“Well, actually, I wanted to talk to you about something related to that matter…”

“Yeah, sure, what is it?”

“You see, it’s been really tough to find a job around here.”

“I can imagine. With the economic crisis and all there are hardly any jobs available in Spain.”

“Yeah, and since I can’t find a job I don’t know if I can stay here in Madrid much longer. I mean, now that I sorted out my stuff in Africa I have money to live off at least for a while, but I think I’m kind of wasting my time here in Madrid at this point. Besides, things between Marta and me aren’t that great right now.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. So what are you planning on doing?”

“You said in your email that you wanted to spend some time traveling, right? Thinking about what you wanna do with your life.”

“Yeah, that’s the idea. I’ll probably leave in a couple of days.  My plan is to go east, take my time. Visit any place I want to, every village or town that seems interesting to me, an exercise in pure traveling. By the end of it, I hope to have figured out what I want to do with my life after that.”

“Yeah, you see, I was thinking… ‘Jean-Pierre said as he looked very intensely at Leonardo, “I was thinking I wanna come with you.”

“Are you serious?” Leonardo asked, startled by Jean-Pierre’s unexpected proposition.  “You’ve always been the “do what society expects from me” kind of guy. I can’t imagine you living a gypsy life like mine, on the road, goalless.”

“Then maybe it’s time for me to change. Do something unexpected. Maybe that’s my problem, maybe I’m too predictable.”

“What about the whole making a lot of money and having a bunch of kids and buying a big house and a nice car thing? I thought that was what you truly wanted…”

“I don’t know, dude. I wanted to do all that with my Marta. But we aren’t getting along that well so I’m not sure if that’s going to work out. And I’ve been thinking about this for awhile. Thinking about the things you used to tell me, thinking about travelling. We’re young and this is the time to do it. When I got your email I thought, “This is it!” I’ll ask him if I can come along.”

“Well, you do realize we might be travelling for months in a row and I have no idea where I’m heading?”

“I do.”

“And you still wanna come along?”

“Yep.”

“And you know that I wanna leave in one week tops?”

“That’s enough time for me to get ready to leave.”

   Leonardo and Jean-Pierre looked attentively at each other. Leonardo was very surprised with Jean-Pierre’s decision to come with him, but was also thrilled to have gained a trusty travelling companion. Jean-Pierre was equally surprised with his own decision, yet he was certain that he was doing what his heart was telling him to do in that moment of his life.

“Well then, to adventure!” exclaimed Leonardo, lifting his glass into the air.

“To adventure and to the future!” cried Jean-Pierre, knocking his glass against Leonardo’s.

XL - Still a Traveller

We are the decisions that we make.

When Rui Pereira, journalist for the Publico, handed Leonardo a copy of his new contract, he did so with a smile on his lips. After three long months in regime of semi-slavery, Leonardo had finally earned the right to be considered a permanent part of the team.

You’re a part of this machine now, on a permanent basis. The duration of your service: indefinite. You’re one of us.

            Leonardo, who was trying his best to smile, without great success, fiddled with the contract in front of him. So this is what the future is supposed to look like…

            December 31^st: The last day of the year. A reasonably big group of socially inadequate people waited for the bus that would take them, throughout the dark night, to Spanish lands. Leonardo was one of them.

            Having a good job is seen as a symbol of success in our western, contemporary society. No, it’s not even just a symbol. Having a good job is practically a nonnegotiable condition to even be considered a respectful member of society. After all, employment is the status quo of the middle class in our modern capitalist society. It’s a way to earn money for the middle class, and money is the master, it’s the lord almighty. Survival, freedom, security, health, beauty or dignity. For middle class dwellers, no employment means no money, which means no access to any of those valuable commodities.

            Obviously, this is not just about having a job. This is about having “a good job”. The better the job, the more money there is and the more the money the bigger the reputation. Now, not having a job, that’s a humiliation. If a job is money and money is dignity, those who don’t have a job don’t have money and therefore don’t have dignity.

            The problem is that a lot of young people these days can’t even get a job, and the majority of those that do get a job have precarious contractual conditions or re badly paid or both. Not only that, a lot of young people end up working jobs they hate just because they need to have some sort of job. Personal satisfaction is not always a real option for a lot of people. You get a job because you have to and that’s usually the end of the story.

            In Leonardo’s case, however, things didn’t have to be necessarily that way. After all, since his biological father died some years ago and left him a decent amount of money, he had been able to start paying for his own expenses. This had given him a degree of freedom that he had never had before and, among other things, had allowed him to delay, even if briefly, his “entrance” in the job market after graduating. At this point, that money meant that he could actually live without finding a job immediately. He could afford spending some time looking for his way in life instead of just diving into a conventional lifestyle.

            In fact, pressured by his family and his society to be “normal”, Leonardo had almost forgotten that he had the possibility to do things differently. This was until a Tuesday night when Alex and him met after work to drink the monotony of their lives away, like they did sometimes.

            Alex told him then: ‘Leo, if I had the money you have still sitting in the bank, just sitting there without doing anything, just picking up mold, I would take it out of the bank, quit my boring job and go somewhere cool to do something interesting with my life.’

            At the time, Leonardo took it rather lightly, laughing about it. But when he realized that Alex was actually for real, the idea started taking over his mind, slowly but steadily, until that a few days later that was the only thought on his mind at all.

            When Leonardo told Rui Pereira his decision he looked at him with a rather shocked expression stamped on his face. These days, with all the young men and women in the world practically killing each other for whatever decent jobs are available, he wasn’t expecting Leonardo to turn down his offer.

            ‘Leonardo, are you sure about this? I don’t know if I’ll be able to offer you this opportunity again any time soon…’

            ‘Yes Rui, I thought about this carefully and I’m sure I wanna travel the world and learn as much as I can about it before settling down. In fact, I couldn’t be any surer than I am. I appreciate the opportunity that you gave me though, and I’m very thankful to you for that.’

            ‘You’re welcome Leonardo. I hope you’re making the right decision. You know, when you first got here and started working for us I realized straight away that there was something special about you. There’s this look in your eyes, this thirst for knowledge, adventure, or something else that I can’t quite figure out. What I can tell you is, never lose that thirst, never become accommodated, when you do, that’s when life stops making sense… Good luck son’ he finally said, shaking Leonardo’s hand firmly. When Leonardo left his office Rui felt happy for him and wished he could find his place in the world.

            On December 31^st, at nine p.m. the bus left the Oriente bus station in Lisbon with Madrid as its destination. Leonardo was once more an explorer, an adventurer, a traveler. He had left behind his life as it could have been, as everyone had expected it to be.

      He left without a specific destination. He didn’t know where the road would take him after Madrid. His only travel-mates were pens and notebooks. Another chapter of his life had ended and a new one was about to begin. In the end, his true nature had prevailed. At least for the time being he wouldn’t become just another cog in the machine. At least for now, he would go on travelling.  

XXXIX - Tyler Says...

The life of each one of us is but a succession of choices, which collectively seal our fates. Life is like a long trip, and each choice we make is like turning either left or right in a cross-road. Often times we aren’t sure where we are going to end up, or even where we want to end up in the end. And yet, it is impossible not to keep marching forward. We can’t just stay in the same place since time never stops. The clock is always ticking, pressuring us to act.

            When he was young, Leonardo had his whole life ahead of him. The world lay at his feet, unexplored. His options were practically unlimited and he felt that he could always go back and take a new different path, if he didn’t like the path he was taking or if he simply changed his mind. Now, however, choices had begun to seem more and more irreversible. Seeing his friend Ricardo about to get married, Leo realized that a decisive moment in his friends lives and his own life had finally come. The possibilities stacked in the future, which before stood unlimited, were now being reduced as they slipped through the funnel of time.

            ‘Ricky, tell me something, aren’t you afraid that in a year from now you’ll realize that this is not what you really want for your life and that then it will be too late to change it?’ Leonardo asked his friend Ricardo.

            He had known that kid when he still didn’t even have any facial hair, and now there he was in front of him, with his thick black beard and his wavy long dark hair falling down his hairy back, about to get married. Leonardo still fondly remembered the many weekends spent at Ricky’s house when they were still in high school. He smiled, recalling how hard Ricky had tried to teach him how to play the guitar so they could form a band together… unfortunately Leonardo was never able to learn how to play more than a handful of songs. Music wasn’t his thing…

            ‘Have you ever heard of something called divorce buddy?’ answered Ricky in a humorous fashion. He had always had a fine sense of humour, rivaling Alexandre for the title of funniest of the gang when they were all still students at the Colegio de Chelas. Since then, eight years had already passed.

            Ricky’s quirky answer made everyone laugh, Leonardo included. The trip to the last village was having the desired effect. Although they knew that they would soon have to return to Lisbon, they could still fully enjoy the calmness of the countryside. They had spent the whole day walking and hiking, breathing the fresh air and appreciating the beautiful landscape made of small mountains, green fields and the clear blue sky. When nightfall was near, they returned to their house in the small village, and they drank beer and ate the meat and the sausages that they cooked in the grill in the house’s backyard. There is nothing more pleasant than a nice and quiet backyard barbecue with friends.

            ‘Look man…’continued Ricky ’when you lime someone like I like my girlfriend, I just don’t think there’s much point on waiting any longer. I wouldn’t do this if I wasn’t sure that she’s the right person for me. I’m not stupid.’

            ‘I understand actually… and I know you like her a lot and that you’ve been together for quite a while and I really, really hope that you are right and that she’s really the right girl for you. What scares me though, is everything that the institution of marriage symbolizes.’

            ‘What do you mean exactly?’ Ricky asked.

            ‘Don’t you think that getting married is like admitting, implicitly, that you accept the rules that society has laid out for you? Like if you were officially becoming part of the system? Don’t get me wrong Ricky, I don’t mean to criticize you. After all, you’re the first of the bunch to get married but I’m sure that one after the other we’ll end up doing the same thing… But do you remember when Tyler Durden said that we spend our whole lives being controlled by our mothers and the last thing we need is another woman to control us for the rest of our lives? That’s what I mean, I think…

            ‘Leo, that’s not real life, it’s just a movie…’

            ‘A movie that we watched together at least ten times’ answered Leonardo, slightly offended by his friend’s somewhat patronizing remark. Leo and Ricky, along with Alex, had formed a unofficial Fight Club fan-club while they were at high school. The activities of the pseudo fan-club included watching the movies as well s lengthy discussions about it and even collective “space monkey style” haircut sessions.

            ‘Leo, growing up mean accepting that sometimes we just have to conform to the rules that society sets up for us. I hear you but the truth is that accepting this reality is inevitable. I think that the idea of being completely free is nothing but a utopia and sooner or later we all have to accept the fact that living in society means giving up some individual freedoms in exchange for a degree of safety and stability. Even in Fight Club the main character ends up choosing to kill Tyler in order to save Marla and live a normal life…’

            ‘Yeah…maybe you’re right Ricky…maybe you already reached that stage, the end of the movie, and realized that Tyler Durden only existed inside your head after all. And after you realized that, you decided to put a bullet through his skull. Game Over. Where is My Mind? By The Pixies playing in the backdrop while “Jack” and Marla watch the big towers fall in front of them. A new beginning. The long awaited rest of the warrior. Maybe even the beginning of a new family... you got the end of the movie already and I’m still here, listening to Durden speak inside my head, talking the revolution in my mind…’

            ‘Don’t worry man, sooner or later the Tyler Durden in your head is gonna go away too. You just need to find your Marla and maybe get a job and everything is gonna start to make sense for you too…’ said Ricky, ex-revolutionary, now a worker and a family man. 

XXXVIII - A Short Escape from Civilization

Like a game of Tetris, pieces of various shapes and sizes falling every which way, threatening to create Chaos. The player tries his best to control the way the pieces fall, to create order from chaos, inserting all the pieces in their correct places. When successfully played out, all of the pieces create a solid block, and individualities are transformed into a collective harmony. Exchange ¨player¨ for ¨society¨ and there is your formula for success, your formula for civilization.

            Leonardo felt like his life had been put on auto-pilot. Every day he woke up pretty early, ate breakfast in a rush and headed to the editorial office. Luckily he lived on the same street as the office, so his commute was only a matter of 2 minutes, whereas most of his colleagues consumed hours of their lives just to get to a place where they usually didn’t want to be in the first place.

            The workday started around 8.30 on the rare occasion that he woke up before 8.15. After starting the laborious day, he’d be stuck there until 7 or 7.30. By then, he’d be so tired and mentally destroyed  that he’d only feel lie going home, eating dinner, crashing on the couch in front o the TV before finally heading to bed around 11.

            And so it was, day in and day out, that he sat there, immersed in a post-apocalyptic world replete with zombies, or fantasy worlds populated with its princes, princesses, knights and dragons, or completely lost in he adventures of Italian-American gangsters or FBI agents specialized in paranormal activity that he forgot for a few hours every day who he was.

            As he reached the end of the day on a Friday, he breathed a sigh of relief, as he always did at the end of the week. There, another weak passed by, I’m a little bit closer to the end of this internship, he thought, shoving his scribbles, folders and files into his backpack and waving goodbye to his colleagues as he hurried out of the office.

            When he felt the cold air outside, he could feel his lungs ingest and process the strange air of temporary freedom that he was granted until the weekend was over. This time around he was granted more time, being that Monday was a holyday, so he had 3 days of non-work life to spend however he pleased.

            In the golden days of college, one day more or one day less spent in laziness wasn’t anything big, unless maybe during the dreaded exam period. Now, though, every minute free from the reigns of his superiors and colleagues was a grand luxury to be appreciated and savored.

            It was the last weekend of November and Leonardo and the boys had planned a trip to the southern part of the country. It was to be a mini-escape from civilization.

            This time, the usual 4 musketeers would have a fifth element added to the bunch. Ricardo, otherwise known as Ricky among friends was, indeed, an old school friend from the Colegio de Chelas. Ricky was the first of the old “gang” to tie the knot. When he told Leonardo the news, he could scarcely believe it. After all, getting married was acknowledging that the golden age of youthfulness and college had come to a close. In other words, getting married was like saying out loud: ‘I’m an adult!’ so that the whole world could hear. All the friends, family and most important loved ones from both sides would be summoned to attend an obligatory ceremony where they would have to hear the couple declare their undying devotion and commitment to one another in front of a priest. In other words this way there would be no room for doubt now that everyone knows about what’s happening and there is no way to turn back.

            Much to his regret, Leonardo had been invited to this “sickening event”, along with other 3 in the gang. It was to take place very soon, in a church in Lisbon. There was no way to refuse the invitation. He had accepted the invitation to witness Ricky’s passage into adulthood but he was at least able to convince him to spend his last weekend as single man with his buddies. But no, it wasn’t with the intention to go clubs or to organize a party with shitty club music and eastern European strippers.  His intention wasn’t even to get drunk with his friend in order to momentarily forget the imminent tragedy (although that hypothesis hadn’t been completely discarded yet). What Leonardo had in mind was some sort of retreat which seemed to him then a great place to spend some time with Ricardo in that particular situation.

Their destination was a little village, lost somewhere between Alentejo and the Algarve. Decades and decades had passed, while the world around the village had slowly changed, dancing to the rhythm of modernization, progress and capitalism. The little Portuguese village however, stayed exactly the same as it had been 50 years earlier.

            Almost 4 hours into the trip, Romeo parked the car in front of an old house, its paint chipping off little by little, accompanying, loyally, the pass of time. More than 5 years had passed since the last time the house had received a visitor, as far as Leonardo knew. The house had belonged to Manuel’s grand parents, and had later been inherited by Manuel’s father. When he died, Manuel got the house, since his brother preferred to keep some parcels of land that were more valuable than the old house.

            Manuel hadn’t agreed to keep the house for financial reasons, but for sentimental ones. Although he was born in Lisbon, Manuel spent many glorious summers as a kid in that remote village before his family moved to Brazil.

            After returning to Portugal, when Manuel had a family of his own, he decided to restore the old house and spend some time with his children there. His wife, however, never bothered to hide her disdain for the little village, stuck in time, with no modern comforts to offer its visitors. Pedro and Lili, his youngest 2, never had much chance to enjoy it, since they were too young when they went there to appreciate the magic of the place. Leonardo, on the other hand, had been really privileged and spent a few weeks each summer there, hidden in time in the little house. Some of his favorite memories of his childhood had taken place there with his adoptive dad.

            With time, these memories had become murky and unclear, but as soon as he got out of the car, and stepped on that land and saw the house right in front of him, lit by the car’s headlights, the memories came back, suddenly, strong and clear.

            During this long weekend, he would revisit old times with old friends and would make some good memories for Ricky to hold onto the future. He was going to do the same things now with his friends that he had done with Manuel when he was a kid. He would bring them to the mountains for long hikes to the dam to see the great cascade of water down into the river valley. They would talk and drink wine and eat barbecue and read under the silver light of the stars.

            

XXXVII - At The Mall

´Friday at last! I thought this week was never going to end!’ I said, as I hopped into the car. It was a dark-blue Fiat, so old that every time Alexandre parked it, he couldn’t help but being slightly surprised that it hadn’t dismantled itself somewhere along the way. He had bought it only a few months after he first received his driver’s license, more than 5 years ago. Even back then, it was one of the oldest, more worn-down cars in the stand. Still, he hadn’t a lot of money to spend back then, and 1500 Euros for a car, even one that old seemed like a bargain at the time.  Plus, and most importantly, it was everything he could afford. Even though the car had earned him a few mockeries, first at university and later at work, the truth was that it had served it’s purpose brilliantly, overcoming even Alexandre’s most optimistic longevity expectations.

            ‘I hear you man, thank god for Fridays!’

            ‘You might as well, since if it wasn’t for Christianity we wouldn’t have weekends. I don’t know how the Romans lived without weekends.’

            ‘They had slaves dude. I wouldn’t give a shit about weekends either if I had slaves working for me, especially if the slave girls looked as good as the ones in Spartacus.’

            Fifteen minutes later, Alex sighed in relief for the umpteenth time as he parked his car in front of the shopping mall.

            As usual, as soon as we hopped off the car, we were facing your regular bum asking for money in return for his “assistance” in helping you park the car. He was all wrapped up in old rags, soaked by the rain that fell gently but incessantly from Lisbon’s sky. His teeth were yellow and rotten, that is, the few teeth he still had. His hair was wet and dishevelled and looked so dirty that I can only imagine he hadn’t washed it in weeks. It’s impossible to know what sorts of creatures inhabited the brown hank, yet a louse or two could almost certainly be found in there. His gaze was stupid and unfocused, dimmed by the drugs that flowed up and down his body as well as those consumed in the past. It reflected the deterioration of his humanity, swiftly replaced by the condition of drug addict.

            That man, who might’ve been someone’s son or maybe even a dedicated student in the past, had been reduced to shame and indignity by his poor choices.  It was a sad cautionary tale to be observed countless times all over the city in the form of sub-men who spend their days “helping” people to park their cars in exchange for a few coins.

After giving him some coins, we entered inside the mall, heading towards the cinemas. After looking t the list of movies shown we made our choice. We decided to watch the newest American blockbuster to hit the Portuguese movie theatres. After buying our tickets, and having some time to kill, we decided to go have something to eat while we waited.

            After heading to the restaurant are, we faced the customary array of choices: McDonalds, Burger King, KFC, Pizza Hut and a few other less well-known chains.

            You would think that we were in some mall in some generic town in the US, except we were not. Americana Exports: the American dream had finally conquered Portugal, and it consisted of hamburgers made with meat of genetically modified cows, French fries produced in industrial quantities and carcinogen soft drinks.

‘Do you think we would be able to identify the animals utilized to make hamburgers?’ I asked Alexandre, while I unwrapped my cheeseburger.  We had decided to eat at McDonalds, guided by Alexandre’s sudden urge to eat a Big Mac.

‘What do you mean?’ asked Alexandre, while taking a big chunk of his Big Mac with a starving first bite.

‘Well, don’t you think it’s possible that McDonald’s cows might have like three eyes and five paws, characteristics developed by artificial alimentation and the injection of hormones? And what about the chickens, four times the size of their natural counterparts, incapable of moving, let alone of laying eggs. And if by some miracle they managed to lay an egg I bet the pouts that came out of it would have scales and extra limbs and would come in all sorts of extravagant colours like gree or purple. McPouts, the next stage in evolution.’  

‘Leo, you could have said so if it bothered you so much to come here.’

‘No… I’m just saying what comes to mind. After all, I don’t think that the food in Burger King or KFC would be much healthier  than the food here… It’s just that sometimes I think about things like this when I come to these places…’

‘I know… and actually I think that you’re probably right about some of those things… Mc pouts, maybe they would become a huge success if they decided to sell them to kids! Can you imagine all the bimbos buying McPouts for their bimbo kids all over the world? Man… if you think about it, about all these malls and fast food places, and bimbos and McPouts, it’s hard not to feel sorry fo r the world…’

‘Christ man, just look around and pay attention to our surroundings. There’s no better place to analyse modern European and Portuguese society than a freakin shopping mall.

Lisbon, the city of the seven hills, the hometown of Pessoa and Queiros, the docks of which waved goodbye, to later receive them with open arms and immense pride, the greatest navigators in the history of mankind. Discoverers of the world beyond European shores. Heroes for all of eternity.

Therese days you can’t walk around Lisbon more than twenty minutes without bumping into a shopping mall like this one we’re at right now. I can almost imagine the great poet Camoes, eye patch and all, devouring a Big Mac and inhaling Coca-Cola through a white straw with red stripes. McCamoes, McLusiads,McLusitania.

You know that if there’s a guy in the world who despises all nationalist notions I’m that guy. And yet, even I feel a certain nostalgia when I think of Camoes, nurturing and honing the Portuguese language through the narrative of the great deeds of a once independent, proud and dynamic nation.

Perhaps nostalgia is not the right word…since I never lived in those distant times, yet I can fathom, how it might have been like and I feel envious… yeas maybe that is the right word; envy of Camoes and his proud people. It is ugly, horrendous even, to   witness the death of a culture and this is exactly what this is all about. In these times we live in we have no choice but to witness the slaughter, slow and painful, of the Portuguese culture.

And yet, if it was only Portugal what was at stake, painful and sad as it might be, I wouldn’t lose too much sleep over it. After all, Portugal is but a small country at the edge of Europe. In the XIX century, the great Eca de Queiros was already announcing, through his magnificent literary work, the obvious and inevitable Portuguese decadence.

Today, however, a different phenomenon engulfs us, every day more vast and intense. Practically the whole world finds itself in this  same sad situation for there is one culture that, not unlike the Roman legions in the ancient  world and the European conquerors of the XVI and XVII centuries, is determined to subjugate all the peoples that cross its path.

There is no icon that better symbolizes that culture than a shopping mall I think. Look at us now, eating fat food, going shopping, consuming everything we can, stuffing our minds with American blockbusters. Forget about the Gulbeikian, the Fado houses, or the monuments in Belem. The new centres of culture in this city are the big shopping malls, Colombo, Vasco da Gama, El Corte Ingles, as Amoreiras, etc…

In the whole of Europe, as well as beyond its borders the same thing repeats itself. In the Spanish-speaking America, in Brazil, in Asia, in Africa or Australia the new generations grow up in front of televisions that show American movies, American series, American reality shows and other such things. We listen to music in English, we read books in English and we play a lot of American video games. The millenary cultures of Europe, Africa and Asia have been relegated to the second division of world culture, whilst the young men and women of the XXI century undergo a process of Americanization. It’s no accident that, at each day that passes, English consolidates itself more and more as the language of the world. Hollywood, TV series, MTV, McDonalds, Coca-Cola, Marvel, DC Comics, ESPN are all different components of the great American-worldwide-brainwashing-machine.

   And here we are, having dinner at McDonalds, eating hamburgers made of genetically modified meat, killing time until the start of our American blockbuster. We are the sons of modernity, children of the nineties, the new generation, American bastards. We have been indoctrinated, immersed in an hegemonic foreign culture to the extent that we are tempted to forget our own.’

‘I know exactly what you mean Leonardo, I feel the same way you do sometimes. Yet look at us now, criticizing the process you call Americanization, while we eat at McDonalds? I think we don’t have the legitimacy to talk. We’re a well of contradictions us two. I mean, who would you say our heroes are? Tyler Durden of course…’

‘Neo…’

‘Brad Pitt and Edward Norton…’

‘Chuck Palahniuk…’

‘Irvine Welsh and Charles Bukowsky…’

‘Jack Kerouac…’

‘Alan Moore, Tarantino. Johnny Depp, Kurt Cobain, etc. etc, etc… Not a single one of them is Portuguese, a few are British but the vast majority are American. All are key cultural influences that come from the English-speaking world, in particular from the United States’, said Alex before swallowing the last chunk of his Big Mac.

‘I know, that’s precisely what I mean. It’s not exactly a criticism directed towards the United States it’s more like a criticism to the rest of the world; a critique of Portugal and the Portuguese people. Our culture has become so conformist that we have decided to let the US do everything for us whilst we forget to produce our own forms of cultural expression…’ I said, venting out my frustration.

‘Leo, have you thought that maybe we just have to conform to the status quo, to how things are, like the “normal people” do? Now it’s my turn to tell you Leo, look around you. Look at all these families, maybe they’re not happy, but they’re content, conformed. They work all week long and then, as a reward to themselves, they come here with their children, with their wives or girlfriends, and they watch a movie and they forget how miserable and insignificant their lives really are. Sk one of them if they care about cultural wars, intellectual dignity or existential issues… most of them would look at you as if you were an alien form outer-space if you did. Maybe we outta take the “dumb pill” and leave these issues alone. Maybe we outta just enjoy our hamburgers and our movie and try to be happy like that’.

‘What can I say Alex, except that you’re probably right. I don’t know what’s wrong with me and this brain of mine, always too willing to venture into the great mysteries, to lose itself in the deserts of existence, to fight metaphysical battles. This mind, incapable of acceptance, and this spirit, unwilling to conform. I always have to be analyzing and criticizing and I’m never happy. I must always dream with utopias, I’m incapable of accepting things the way they are, in their imperfect form. Damn inquisitive brain of mine, go to hell spirit of ambition!

I wish Alex, I could gladly accept the death of my culture. I wish I could stop thinking about these issues. I wish I couldn’t see the fact that this country has become a cultural colony of the USA. I wish I didn’t feel a knot in my stomach every time I come here abd I see all these people going from one fancy foreign shop to the next, paying for brand clothes because it makes them feel as if they were better than the people that don’t have brand clothing. I wish I could just sit here and munch  Big Mac without placing a thought on how this food got here, without thinking about the destruction of millenary rain forests, about the brutal treatment of the cattle, without having nightmares with a clown dressed in yellow and red laughing at the sound of the Apocalypse.  I wish I could just sit the fuck down in my comfy chair in the fucking theatre and watch this week’s blockbuster until my mind goes numb.’

‘Well, maybe you can try doing that now Leo, it’s time to go,’ said Alex, eating the last two French fries left on his tray and getting up to go to the theatre.

‘Sure, I’m coming…’

XXXVI - Fighting Against Oneself

The repetitive bell ringing makes him sulky. Annoyed, Leonardo quickly finishes the morning’s last sentence and carefully closes the notebook, before rushing to open the door to his guest.

As he slides along the artery of white stucco that connects his depersonalized bedroom to the lobby, he reflects upon the structure of what he hopes will some day become his first book. The doubts that now so energetically stir his mind are mostly related to the tone of the narrative – should he adopt a Beatnick-like jargon, following on the footsteps of his literary idols Kerouac and Burroughs, or would it be better to adopt a more conservative speech, which is maybe a better fit to his own temperament? Or maybe he should adopt a style thriving with obscenities like good old Irvine Welsh. Writing like that has to be quite satisfying… Maybe the best option would be to create an original style, inspired by all those people as well as his travels and life experiences, without renouncing to his own identity. After all the best writers have their own imprint. You notice they wrote something as soon as you start reading it. Perhaps that’s the key to being a good writer, to be faithful to your own unique individuality, he concludes silently.

Even if he could not find an answer to such a difficult question straight away, Leonardo couldn’t help but feel a little bit proud of himself. It was still only the beginning, a dozen pages at most, but it was already something. He had finally stopped thinking about writing and started writing. Precisely two weeks had passed since, at a Starbucks café in the Baixa, Leonardo had started his “secret project”. 

Suddenly, Leonardo notices that he is walking in a rather unusual way. His steps are without a doubt somewhat abnormal: lively, inspired, enthusiastic even. His feet move graciously and elegantly, guided by the kind of certainty and confidence that he, more often than not, lacked. Maybe he is different because he just surfed a nearly perfect wave of inspiration that lasted the greater part of the morning… or maybe saying so would be somewhat of a romantic exaggeration. What is certain, however, is that Leonardo’s brain is now filled with ambition and ideas. They echo through his brain, creating the sort of vibrating resonance that reminds him of the coordinated movement of a huge crowd at a football stadium, stampeding the ground frenetically before a penalty-kick. Or, rather less poetically put, it also reminded him of a dildo.

On the other hand, he’s also a bit upset. The hysteric buzzing of the bell has effectively killed his momentum and, even in spite of his inexperience, he had quickly learned that inspiration is not always easy to attain and when you have it you shouldn’t let go of it no matter what. At least his faithful black Moleskin had kept safe all of the good ideas that had come to him that morning. Furthermore, he could already smell the yummy taste coming from the oven, where a (hopefully) delicious meat Lasagna was cooking. Also, he’s about to have lunch with two of his best friends, and they have the whole house to themselves the entire day so, all in all, life is actually pretty good in this particular Sunday morning.

While he fiddles with the intercom, in a clumsy attempt to open the door to his friend, Leonardo notices how his fingers are covered by small bruises and a number of ink stains, the marks of a whole morning of intense, violent even, writing. He now realizes, looking at it, that it actually hurts a bit.      

When he finally manages to turn on the small black-and-white intercom screen he sees a guy laughing at the camera, while proudly displaying a big erect middle finger which covers part of his face.

‘Hey man, I have a delicious lasagna on the oven, do you wanna come up or what?’

‘Hey Leo, you bet, I’m so hungry! I’m coming up!’   

Five minutes later they’re seating on Leonardo’s bed, looking at old pictures, a reminder of the old times when they had just met. The pictures reveal a miniature version of Leonardo, one meter and a half tall at most, playing with friends on the grass in some park, riding a muddy bicycle, or acting on a school play. The rest of the room’s decorations are equally anchored on a distant, juvenile past. The shelves are filled with toys and comic books, the sheets and blankets that cover the single bed are Disney themed and most drawers are filled with Leonardo’s drawings, stories and school reports at least a decade old, sometimes two.

‘So, do you think you’re gonna bring any girls here?’ asks David, while holding an oldOptimus Prime action figure, trying to figure out how to turn it back into a truck. ‘I bet that when you tell them that you wanna play they don’t think that you actually wanna play with toys…’

Leonardo smiles in embarrassment, whist twitching uncomfortably on top of his old Toy Story blanket. ‘Yeah, I really need to redecorate this room as soon as possible. It’s quite pathetic for a guy of my age to sleep in a room like this. Maybe I’ll use part of my first pay check to upgrade this room to the XXI century. In any case I don’t think I’ll stay in my mum’s place that long.’

‘It’s kinda weird that your mum kept all your childhood stuff but almost none of your high school things, don’t you think? I mean is there anything left from that time at all?’

‘Nah, not really… a few books and videogames pretty much. I guess she prefers to think of me as a child and not as a somewhat problematic teenager. I can’t really blame her though. We all do the same thing in one way or the other, nostalgia is one of the best natural drugs that exist in the world. When the present is not to our liking, we escape into the past or into the future which, in our heads are miraculously always better than they really were or ever will be. We look back to our past and start trying to make it better, and little by little we start to believe in our own lies,’ says Leonardo, whilst picking up a portrait of himself apparently having fun at some fair or festival, somewhere, sometime, lost in the past…

‘Well,’ says David, bringing him back to the present, ‘if you wanna look for some of your lost teenage stuff I can help you, I’m sure there’s some stuff at least, maybe hidden in some obscure box in one of the closets spread around the apartment.’

‘Yeah, it’s a possibility… maybe we can look for that stuff after we have lunch.’

‘Sure, when is Alex coming?’

‘He’s supposed to be on his way…’ Leonardo is interrupted by the ring of his cell phone and as soon as he presses the green button he hears Alex’ voice on the other side of the line:

‘Hey man, I’m running a bit late but I’ll be there in fifteen minutes tops ‘right? My ruddy sister took forever to come home so I didn’t have the car till now…’

‘No problem man, I’ll keep the lasagna warm for you so take your time… as long as it’s not too much time,’ he says, before hanging up.

Out of all his friends, Alexandre is probably Leonardo’s closest friend, the only one who (almost) “gets him.” He’s sort of a strange mix between Woody Allen and Jerry Seinfeld if you can even imagine such an unorthodox character. His self-esteem was so low that you couldn’t help but instantly feel some sympathy for the fella, and his spot-on sense of humour manufactured a sugary shell for an otherwise lonely and vinegary soul. Every time he felt like crying, he added a new joke to his now vast repertoire, every time he felt lonely and depressed he did his best to muster a convincing smile, capable of fooling even himself if he cared to look into a mirror. As the years went by, Alex managed to develop a formidable capacity to mask his cognitive and behavioural dysfunctions. Most people who had just met him would think that Alexandre was a happy guy, lively and vivacious. Leonardo knows better. He sees Alex the way he really is, like a fine poker player, capable of deceiving anyone, bluffing his way through the entire “game” if necessary.

´So, when is he coming, I’m fucking hungry man!’ said David throwing an American football at Leonardo, a reminder of his time playing that weird, violent game, when he went to Uni in England.  

‘He’s a bit late, but he said that he’ll be here in fifteen minutes, let’s have some crackers in the meantime or something like that,’ answered Leo, throwing the football back at David.

We strode towards the intercom. This time around, the black and white monitor revealed a tall, skinny fella, waving and smiling rather awkwardly. Alex is the kind of guy that always makes you laugh, even when he’s not trying to be funny at all.

‘Hey Alex, welcome to my humble palace, come up,’ I said, whilst pushing the red button to open the door downstairs.

We waited for Alex a few minutes, by the front door, but he didn’t show up…

‘That’s weird,’ I said.

‘Maybe he forgot which one is your floor…’ suggested David.

‘Maybe…’ In the meantime, my nostrils were invaded by the poignant odor oozing from the kitchen - its source was the lasagna that I had prepared the day before and was now baking on the oven – the smell of delicious melted cheese and cooked beef was now impregnating the whole house. ‘Can you stay by the door and wait for Alex? I’m gonna check on the lasagna.’

I walked towards the kitchen following the yummy smell of meat and cheese. I then opened the oven and carefully examined the contents inside. Leaning towards the oven I must have resembled a gynecologist on a work day, thoroughly perusing the small, stuffy whole. Everything seemed to be going according to plan on that end; in five or ten minutes it should be ready, I thought. I was satisfied, the Lasagna looked just how I had imagined it: tanned, crunchy and delicious. Man, I had gone a long way since those times when I had just left my mom’s house and had found myself living by my own, having to cook in order to survive.  At first, the things I cooked at home were so bad that it had proven a real challenge to actually eat them.
 My self’-adulation was suddenly interrupted by a familiar vibrating feeling coming from my back pocket.  In a move worthy of an expert juggler, I pulled my cell phone from my pocket, answered the call, closed the oven’s door with a gentle kick and stood up on my feet.      It was Alex calling.

‘Hey man where the fuck are you?’ I asked him, mildly impatiently.

‘You’re not gonna believe this… I’ll give you ten euros if you figure out where I’m calling you from.’

‘Are you still at home?’

‘Still cold.’

‘You’re at the front entrance?’

‘Getting warmer…’

‘Are you on your way here?’

‘More or less... that is I WAS on my way but not anymore...’

The plot thickens…

‘Okay, I give up. Where are you?’

‘I’m trapped in the fucking elevator man. This won’t go up or down and the damn button is as silent as a frigid woman. The lights stopped working too so it’s pitch black in here.’

These news didn’t come at a total surprise. After all, Alex always was the unlucky type. His was not the kind of bad luck that will get you killed, but rather they type that drives you more pessimistic and neurotic than you’ll care to admit.
Pretty much ever since we first became friends, Alex had built a might impressive curriculum filled with unbelievable episodes of bad luck, some of them so unlikely to happen to “normal” person –as in someone who doesn’t have chronic bad luck.

So when I heard the news I actually chuckled a bit. Then I realized that maybe the situation was partially my fault. The two elevators in the building had a history of giving a hard time to the building’s residents, sometimes stopping between floors, although the problem would usually fix itself after a few seconds or a couple of minutes at most. Still… I should have told Alex to take the stairs considering the nature of his rare “condition”.

On the other side of the line, Alex was starting t freak out a bit.
‘Dude, you gotta call someone, do you have the elevator company’s number? Call them or call someone else, the firemen or something and tell them there’s a very unlucky guy stuck on the elevator. If they don’t come quick I think I’ll piss my pants, I really have to go to the bathroom Leo…’

It figures…

‘Look don’t worry, I’ll see what I can do. I’ll try to get you out of there as soon as I can.’

‘Ok chop-chop Leo.’

I hung up and started looking around, like a headless chicken, for a number I could call. After roaming around the house a bit, I finally found the yellow pages and then dialed the fire department number.

‘Hey Alex, hang in there, they’re coming.’

‘Cool, I’m actually quite relieved now. Who did you call?’

‘Firemen. Don’t know if that’s what you’re supposed to do in this kind of cases but they said someone’s on their way so I guess it worked.’

‘Nice. I bought a Guinness six-pack on my way to your place so I’m in luck. The perfect survival kit.’

‘Ern... I don’t know about that. I’m afraid it’s not such a great idea if you wanna keep your trouser dry for when your saviors show up.’

‘Oh shit! I forgot about that...’ he says, before hanging up?

‘Hey Leo, what happened? Why were you running round the house like that? Is everything okay?’ asked David.

‘Yeah… Alex is trapped in the elevator, I called the firemen, they’re coming… I guess you’ll have to stay hungry for a bit longer mate.’

‘Shit man, that guy really doesn’t have any luck…’

Almost two hours later, a beaten up Alex was finally liberated, crossing the metallic elevator walls and leaping into safe ground. As he abandons the lift, it lights up again, attributing almost a biblical tone to the unlikely scene. Alex realized how bizarre the situation was and decided to joke about it.

‘Do not worry friends, I have finally arrived, followed by the celestial light – he says with open arms – yet I beg you, do not hug me with vigor brothers, because if not I will piss all over my legs.’ This prompts everyone to laugh, even the two firemen at the site. 

Sadly, after being put on hold for two hours, the Lasagna had lost but all of its gastronomic potential. Something that could have proven an abundant source of gastronomic pleasure, turned into a mere source of nutrients, eaten by formality and necessity rather than enjoyment. As we processed the dry, hard pasta, we asked the usual questions; ‘what have you been up to lately? ‘did you meet any girls?’, ‘what are your plans for the future?’; and so on…

After we finished eating, we decided to continue our conversation in the living room. Alex and I took a seat at the metallic-blue couch –it had a really modern look to it and I’m sure it was made by some pretentious fuck like most of the pieces of furniture at my mom’s place. David on the other hand preferred to seat on one of the expensive chairs in the living room, a strange looking chair that didn’t seem much comfortable at all.

‘Cool dude, after all that time spent travelling and living abroad you’ll have plenty of source material for your writing. I think you should definitely do it!’ Alex seemed genuinely excited for me when I told him I had started to write a book based on my life experiences. Looking at him, I noticed how little he had changed since we had finished high school. He was still skinny as a teenager and was wearing a super-hero teacher. It was all red except for the golden Flash icon in the middle. The shirt itself was quite old, and I recalled seeing Alex wear it if not at high-school than only a couple of years later. His jeans were torn down, so you could see his skinny knees breathing through. I wasn’t sure if that made him seem cool, Kurt Cobain style, or it made him look like a homeless person. His feet were sporting, like always, a worn-down pair of tennis shoes, made to work hard in his almost daily long walks or runs. Alex was like one of those Ethiopian runners that run everywhere, except he was white and wasn’t a pro marathon runner. 

‘Yeah man, that’s the fucking plan. Write. I think that in a way that was always what I really wanted to do you know?’ I said, while I fiddle with my American Football. ‘And also, deep down, I think that writing is a lot more honest work than being a journalist. I mean, I went to Uni and all but all I really learned was a lot about theoretical shit basically, and world politics and stuff like that… I never really learned to do anything practical. It’s like, I’m fooling people pretending to be like them you know? At least when I write I’m not fooling anyone, it’s me and my thoughts and a piece of paper. I feel good about it, I don’t feel the way I feel at work, like I’m a fraud or something, that someday some dude is gonna point a finger at me and say get outta here you big fat liar!’

‘Join the club man,’ said Alex ‘I think not a lot of people really feels prepared to join the real world after Uni these days. I’ve had a job for a while now but trust me, everyday I think I’m gonna get fired. I even think that my boss hates me. Some day soon they’re gonna kick me out, but I don’t care, that’s just things are nowadays. I don’t know… it’s all about doing stuff because people expect us to do them isn’t that how it works?’

‘Well what if you just say fuck you to everyone and do what YOU want?  Anyways, I feel good about this! ‘I said, so excited that I had to get up and kick the air in front of me, as if it were an imaginary enemy.

‘And how are you gonna do both things at the same time – work at the newspaper and write your book? – I can only imagine that after a whole day spent in front of a PC the last thing you’ll wanna do when you go home will be to spend your evening punching keyboard keys away - Especially when you have a room full of toys to play with.’ asked  David with a smirk on his face.

‘I gotta say, David has a point there, ’agreed Alex, ‘personally, I have the same problem. I would like to dedicate more time to my blog but after a day at work I never find the will to write any posts.’ After a short pause, he proceeded ‘Look why do you think that porn stars are the worst girlfriends in the world? Okay, there’s the whole VDs and dishonor stuff, but other than that. Don’t you think that after they spend the whole day being fucked they’re gonna wanna have more sex when they get home to their boyfriends or husbands? No fucking way.

‘That’s a shitty example man’ I said, seating down again, a bit discouraged.

‘Look don’t get down like that bro, I’m just trying to be realistic here. We both know that you’re not the kind of guy that can work eight hours in an office and then work two more hours at home man, you’re a lazy bum… a lazy bum with a lot of interesting things to say I think, but still a lazy bum…’

‘Thanks…’ I said ironically.

‘Look this might be shitty advice, but why don’t you do it full-time if you really wanna do it? Realistically, that’s the only way you’ll ever get it done.

‘I think it’s not a good idea.’ Intervened David ‘After all he just got a great opportunity at the newspaper. Throwing it away is a very stupid move I think. If you wanna write a book, write it in your free time Leo, that’s my advice.

‘Well what do I know? David’s advice is probably a lot wiser than mine… still, I think that you shouldn’t neglect your dreams, no matter what. You have only one live to live, one chance, one opportunity. Sometimes you need to have ball s to seize that chance. - Something I don’t have by the way… - but I think that you have the capacity to do it.

‘I don’t know Alex, I don’t think I have the balls either. It takes a lot of courage to go against the current, to do your own thing. It’s hard to be a freak.

‘It’s even harder to fight your own nature man, and we both know that’s what you’re doing right now.’



Co-Written with Goncalo Barbosa