Behind The Green Door

FERNANDO LOBO TRAVEL PRA

FERNANDO LOBO PRA TRAVEL
drawings AUGUSTO RODRIGUES

Test Publisher

1st Edition
ISBN8585365013

94p

And there goes Fernando Lobo, mounted in Comet Vassourinha and flying over the Rainbow.

CAMEL

I was always in a hurry, running the floor, wanting to drink all the time and hours with a startling eagerness. I know well why such speed that made me Bohemian to want the evening and at night with open eyes, as who wants to enjoy his life's entire piece. Perhaps because, once a teacher in my city has looked the lifeline of my hand and said I would not live beyond twenty. I tried to live my time running my hours of sleep without a constant. Varei what was allowed and space, perhaps by oversight, failed on the line so that its size was our time to be determined.
So I was never to see or stop windows to spy planes, or even turn his face to the passerby brought anything exotic. No. Or rather, I lie a little, because I was always faithful viewer of the hawk. When I listen, I feel the presence of anything supernatural that speaks to me from far away, perhaps by virtue of those objects or products that are never in the common market. Goods are no stamp, with a touch of smuggling, good-tasting for those who have, like me, this gypsy soul and this anarchic dot inside the chest. And as I listen to a sage.
bought all their offerings that do not bring the tang of inflation: the paper plane, the can opener that is also a screwdriver, a pen "three in one" who writes with seven paints, mothballs English and other gift items as usually advertise. The rapidity of his sentences, his cheerful presence, her hands soft and skillful as the magicians. Yes! They are magical, and many even though I am a constant buyer, have, by experience, be sure that your articles do not always work, like those potato peeler that transforms the trivial tuber in a flower, or the mice that dropped to the ground, fires only a career. Yet I am sure your customer, because it gives me is a dream sensation of the new world that my eyes did not know, the unexplained presence of a certainty that I do not know what it is. And it grew even more in my chest when one day I found a street vendor was not selling objects: selling Argentine tango steps. That's right! And the sound of the record player batteries taught his arrabalero, while offering a booklet which was printed the steps in the drawings. This was not afraid of the "clipped." His easy run to the sound of tango ...

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