Me and My Father's Stomach

I was walking down the street with my father’s stomach in my bag. The cold wind was blowing over my face and my sleepy conscious was walking in a dream, or rather a nightmare, right on the street. It had been already a couple of days since I arrived to the city after 6 months of absence and this was the first time I was in the center. Me, a part of my father, and his stomach and his tumors, no longer part of him were on the same street, feeling the same storms in the water…

A Lisbon Story...

Date: February 5, 2005

Place: Baixa-Chiado Metro Station

First an acquinted face, then a friend and now turned to a best friend was leaving this melancholic city...In his slow steps he had sadness, he had joy, he had illusions, he had dissapointments, he had it all except one; he never had love. All he had was a Lisbon Story which kept him continue further away.

Now, taking his broken heart with him and leaving the Lisbon Story behind, he was going away with a waving hand in the air.

That's how he dissapeared from my life.

Just like others.

With one difference: I already miss you, Lennaert.