Trilha-se sem mapas. O que pesa por vezes é o pequeno contrato com a solidão, de palavra apenas, mas igualmente sério. É possível falar só, feliz, e ao mesmo tempo sentir tanto a falta. Sem sombras, a tua. Tenho a certeza, luminosa. Sem machucar a lucidez, imagino-a à presença e é quase bom. Mas, vem. Podes vir quando quiseres. Vem falar-me à beira do meu caminho. Repetir-me o teu sorriso. É que não tenho, nunca tive, uma fotografia tua. Mas sei-o de cor. E faz-me falta para o caminho.
Really eager. Said he wanted to fastlearn english in sight of love for a western girl. Asked me for help. Took me on a motorbike all around town and as he talked I could hardly understand. Looking for a place to say. Motorbike is my chinese car. Well, it is... all around town, bumping all around, with all the Henrys, half way west... I don't like the chinese woman, want to find a girl overseas. Tried to make sense, I just kept on laughing, already afraid... But afterall it was really simple: while on the bike, I should teach him better English, he should make me speak Chinese. I didn't get the flat, he didn't have lunch. Best way to learn is talking, so he said. I nod and agree, but I'm on the back of the motorbike, can hardly hear the words in mandarin. Just say Txeee, txeee, the parts I can remeber as unknown words came out of my mouth, repeated. Well, it was really nice, txeee, txeee, I thanked, drop me off in San Ma Lo, please. Good chinese, generously replied. How long gonna live here?, asked. Hell, who knows, Henry, got to get me a motorbike too!
