http://twitter.com/novosautoresbra
sábado, março 31, 2018
sexta-feira, março 30, 2018
nullo tempore putrescit (English version)
(This is a rush translation. Version may not be in its final form.)
Shadows we were. No attic and not even a basement. It was always night inside. In this house, there were at least nine rooms, always yellow lights that created many points of shadow.
The city had been out of electricity for three days. The storm also interrupted the communications of the islands with the mainland.
Who were those four strange women who looked soulless and endowed with incredible intellectual energy?
Why did we seem to sleep all day?
Why did we only serve to do homework and receive "visitors" from time to time?
I could not even tell you how long that had lasted. I tried to watch our position from the windows, but the mist always seemed to bring a gray scenery, neither day nor night. Or maybe it was my mind that had a permanent veil over it. It was like a hallucination that never ended.
"Time depends on where you are" - our servant - practically blind - said once.
One day, or would it be a night?, I would clean one of the bedrooms and find a baby, about three days old, curled up on the bed.
My cry drew the attention of one of the women, who told me only:
- Get out of here. It's a curse you carry for all future generations.
I decided I needed to get out of the house.
I thought about not eating my first food - my bread and tea.
I passed the storage room, full of glasses with animals in the formaldehyde, and I went to the door to the garden.
I opened the door, even though I had always been aware of the danger involved.
I went up the muddy steps to a place where I had already been with the first woman.
It was a kind of greenhouse, covered with a glass ceiling and a net that created shadows. I frightened myself with the servant.
"Look at those plants. They were combined. It's not just with the time they play. These women know how to handle living things for centuries, he told me.
There beside it, many stones sharpened in rows like a plantation. A heavy rain began. It seemed to me to see something on earth. I dug with my hands.
I went back to the house in fear.
The third woman looked at me with hatred and dragged me through the hair. I was placed in a dark, narrow room and stayed there for a long time.
In my dream, a woman showed me a fruit of green bark - she would take her seed with a knife and put a small insect inside. Many bees out of a beehive.
So I get it. They would decimate the whole race.
I woke up to the sound of the door. The servant had opened it, with a candle in his hands,
- Run away now.
I ran as the man set fire to himself to set the house on fire.
Afonso Junior Ferreira de Lima
Shadows we were. No attic and not even a basement. It was always night inside. In this house, there were at least nine rooms, always yellow lights that created many points of shadow.
The city had been out of electricity for three days. The storm also interrupted the communications of the islands with the mainland.
Who were those four strange women who looked soulless and endowed with incredible intellectual energy?
Why did we seem to sleep all day?
Why did we only serve to do homework and receive "visitors" from time to time?
I could not even tell you how long that had lasted. I tried to watch our position from the windows, but the mist always seemed to bring a gray scenery, neither day nor night. Or maybe it was my mind that had a permanent veil over it. It was like a hallucination that never ended.
"Time depends on where you are" - our servant - practically blind - said once.
One day, or would it be a night?, I would clean one of the bedrooms and find a baby, about three days old, curled up on the bed.
My cry drew the attention of one of the women, who told me only:
- Get out of here. It's a curse you carry for all future generations.
I decided I needed to get out of the house.
I thought about not eating my first food - my bread and tea.
I passed the storage room, full of glasses with animals in the formaldehyde, and I went to the door to the garden.
I opened the door, even though I had always been aware of the danger involved.
I went up the muddy steps to a place where I had already been with the first woman.
It was a kind of greenhouse, covered with a glass ceiling and a net that created shadows. I frightened myself with the servant.
"Look at those plants. They were combined. It's not just with the time they play. These women know how to handle living things for centuries, he told me.
There beside it, many stones sharpened in rows like a plantation. A heavy rain began. It seemed to me to see something on earth. I dug with my hands.
I went back to the house in fear.
The third woman looked at me with hatred and dragged me through the hair. I was placed in a dark, narrow room and stayed there for a long time.
In my dream, a woman showed me a fruit of green bark - she would take her seed with a knife and put a small insect inside. Many bees out of a beehive.
So I get it. They would decimate the whole race.
I woke up to the sound of the door. The servant had opened it, with a candle in his hands,
- Run away now.
I ran as the man set fire to himself to set the house on fire.
Afonso Junior Ferreira de Lima
quinta-feira, março 29, 2018
Trânsito
O
Brasil decidiu fechar as fronteiras. Mais de 3 milhões de russos,
dinamarqueses, alemães e ingleses haviam chegado desde o “Domingo
Branco”, quando Paris chegara a 20 graus negativos.
Há
algum tempo atrás a Itália processara a Inglaterra pelo uso do nome
“Londres” (de Londinium) e pela “falsa paternidade do
futebol”; a China processara a Itália pelo copyright da
massa e Bagdá a Europa pelo copyright do Renascimento; foi um
passo pequeno até a África requerer direitos de imagem sobre Les
demoiselles d´Ávignon.
Por
um lado a direita européia dizia que o “mundo em desenvolvimento”
não tinha direito aos solos quentes da Terra, agora que o frio se
espalhava porque a água doce dos icebergs, aquecidos pela fumaça,
acabara com a corrente do Golfo. O governo brasileiro dizia que
milhares já haviam imigrado quando das Guerras Mundiais.
As
flores e árvores dos jardins escoceses foram engolidas pelo inverno.
A imagem de um campo de futebol congelado em Paris passou a circular
na rede com o seguinte dizer: “Todos tem direito a um raio de sol.”
Um carro bomba explodiu perto do Parlamento onde a Comissão para
Imigração Européia se reunia. O salmão, era uma vez, passou a
fazer propagandas na Noruega exigindo “tolerância e abertura de
fronteiras”.
Grupos
de direitos humanos brasileiros começaram a mostrar fotos de meninos
jogando na terra, para defender que, num mundo com distâncias tão
grandes, receber imigrantes é “imoral”. A Câmera de Comércio
Européia ofereceu 2 bilhões de dólares para restaurar cortiços
putrefatos em São Paulo, tetos e paredes mofadas, e um plano de
“reinserção de moradores de rua”. O clipe da campanha no Tube
mostrava multidões caídas, enroladas em cobertores e com potes de
plástico para sopa, no cimento da cidade.
Quando
as escolas e os transportes entraram em colapso devido ao
congelamento, os presidentes da Alemanha, França e Inglaterra vieram
ao Brasil, e falou-se em uma ameaça velada de guerra.
Os
primeiros imigrantes europeus chegaram na Amazônia em dezembro de
2060. Celebrou-se um jogo amistoso em nome da “a união
intercontinental”.
Afonso Jr. Ferreira de Lima - 2010
quinta-feira, março 22, 2018
nullo tempore putrescit
Sombras nós éramos. Nenhum sótão e nem mesmo um porão. Era sempre noite lá dentro. Nessa casa, haviam pelo menos nove quartos, as luzes sempre amarelas que criavam muitos pontos de sombra.
A cidade estava sem luz elétrica há três dias. A tempestade interrompera também as comunicações das ilhas com o continente.
Quem eram aquelas quatro mulheres estranhas, que pareciam sem alma e dotadas de incrível energia intelectual?
Por que nós parecíamos dormir o dia todo?
Por que apenas servíamos para fazer os trabalhos de casa e receber "visitantes" de vez em quando?
Eu nem era capaz de dizer há quanto tempo isso durava. Eu tentava observar pelas janelas nossa posição, mas névoa espeça parecia trazer sempre um cenário cinzento, nem dia nem noite. Ou talvez fosse minha mente que tinha um véu permanente sobre ela. Era como uma alucinação que nunca tinha fim.
"O tempo depende de onde você está" - nosso servo - praticamente cego - disse, uma vez.
Um dia, ou seria uma noite?, eu limpava um dos quartos e encontrei um bebê, de aproximadamente três dias, enrolado sobre a cama.
Meu grito chamou a atenção de uma das mulheres, que me disse apenas:
- Saia daqui. É uma maldição que você carrega por todas as gerações futuras.
Decidi que precisava sair da casa.
Pensei em não comer meu primeiro alimento - meu pão e chá.
Passei pelo depósito, cheio de vidros com animais no formol, e cheguei até a porta para o jardim.
Abri a porta, mesmo tendo sido sempre avisada do perigo envolvido.
Subi os degraus embarrados até um lugar em que já fora com a primeira mulher.
Era uma espécie de estufa, coberta de um teto de vidro e uma rede que criava sombras. Assustei-me com o servo.
- Veja essas plantas. Foram combinadas. Não é apenas com o tempo que eles brincam. Essas mulheres sabem manipular as coisas vivas há séculos, ele me disse.
Ali ao lado, muitas pedras afiadas em fileiras como uma plantação. Uma chuva forte começou. Pareceu-me ver algo na terra. Eu cavei com as mãos.
Voltei para a casa assustada.
A terceira mulher olhou-me com ódio e me arrastou pelos cabelos. Fui colocada em um quarto estreito e escuro e lá fiquei por muito tempo.
No meu sonho, uma mulher me mostrava um fruto de casca verde - ela retirava sua semente com uma faca e colocava lá dentro um pequeno inseto. De uma colmeia saiam muitas abelhas.
Então eu entendi. Iriam dizimar a raça toda.
Acordei com o barulho da porta. O servo a abrira, com uma vela nas mãos gritou:
- Fuja agora.
Eu corri, enquanto o homem ateava fogo a si mesmo para incendiar a casa.
quarta-feira, março 21, 2018
Entropy (English version)
(This is a rush translation. Version may not be in its final form.)
I leave in this personal diary something that will only come to the public perhaps after my death. I do not know what happened, nor how everything had such a precise result. But I must record here what happened. I know how to write.
*
I woke up on my birthday with the gray autumn light. My mother gave me a happy hug, we was going to the caves to do the walk I wanted.
Our slave made the coffee and wished me good luck.
The receptionist at the inn said they were a little afraid, there had been an accident with a memory a few days before. No one knew the cause yet.
The white-bearded man smiled at us.
"There was a time," he said, "in which you engraved your soul on stones and soft surfaces. Now, it's us. What do you want to know about?"
"The origin of the slave corpses," I said.
*
I woke up with a kind of buzzing in my ear, an autumn wind. It took me a while to see what was around me. The walls, the floor, the furniture. I jumped up. Should not I be in the hostel room?
I put on my clothes and went downstairs.
- Mother? This is a dream...
- What my love? - she said.
I went to my room again - unwittingly I broke the eastern vase near the stairs - and looked at my calendar. It was one day before my birthday.
*
The eastern vase was in perfect state.
My father comes to visit me.
"I will not be here in your day."
"Dad, have you heard of an accident with a memory?"
"You need to stop this obsession with the past. It's no use. What produces are the numbers. You will end up in prison as subversive".
Our corpse slave turned on the TV.
- Accident kills a memory on the beach 9-200.
"That did not happen," I said.
*
I ran to the news station.
I explained to half a dozen people that I had a "bomb." Finally I sat in the room of the thin, sickly-looking man.
- There will be an accident on the beach 9-200 tomorrow. You need to cover the event, "I said.
The reporter looked nervous:
"Boy, we're investigating a series of bomb attacks and a kidnapping. Do not come...
- From who?
- A scientist.
I got up and stood at the door.
"It's the ideas, you see? If humans do not have memories, they will be weak." I left thinking about who would want revenge.
*
I woke up four days before my birthday.
Before my mother came into the room, I asked our slave: "Do you hate human beings?"
He looked disturbed.
"Personally, I think you were once a sublime race. You have fallen long after that... Well, you only use images and sounds now."
He turned off the boiling water.
"Do you remember last year, when the corpses staged a petition calling for citizenship?" There was a massacre.
*
I woke up and went to the ruins. A cement building, several leaves with symbols no one could read.
In the yellowed pages, the illustration of a giant with fire. That is it! We need to blow up the conspiracy.
"You must know something, something from your animal intuition, you have to tell me something. The slave revolt will occur" - my slave seemed very frightened.
"If you do not help me, I'll have you put to second death."
Afonso Junior Ferreira de Lima
https://afonsojunior.blogspot.com/2018/03/entropia.html
I leave in this personal diary something that will only come to the public perhaps after my death. I do not know what happened, nor how everything had such a precise result. But I must record here what happened. I know how to write.
*
I woke up on my birthday with the gray autumn light. My mother gave me a happy hug, we was going to the caves to do the walk I wanted.
Our slave made the coffee and wished me good luck.
The receptionist at the inn said they were a little afraid, there had been an accident with a memory a few days before. No one knew the cause yet.
The white-bearded man smiled at us.
"There was a time," he said, "in which you engraved your soul on stones and soft surfaces. Now, it's us. What do you want to know about?"
"The origin of the slave corpses," I said.
*
I woke up with a kind of buzzing in my ear, an autumn wind. It took me a while to see what was around me. The walls, the floor, the furniture. I jumped up. Should not I be in the hostel room?
I put on my clothes and went downstairs.
- Mother? This is a dream...
- What my love? - she said.
I went to my room again - unwittingly I broke the eastern vase near the stairs - and looked at my calendar. It was one day before my birthday.
*
The eastern vase was in perfect state.
My father comes to visit me.
"I will not be here in your day."
"Dad, have you heard of an accident with a memory?"
"You need to stop this obsession with the past. It's no use. What produces are the numbers. You will end up in prison as subversive".
Our corpse slave turned on the TV.
- Accident kills a memory on the beach 9-200.
"That did not happen," I said.
*
I ran to the news station.
I explained to half a dozen people that I had a "bomb." Finally I sat in the room of the thin, sickly-looking man.
- There will be an accident on the beach 9-200 tomorrow. You need to cover the event, "I said.
The reporter looked nervous:
"Boy, we're investigating a series of bomb attacks and a kidnapping. Do not come...
- From who?
- A scientist.
I got up and stood at the door.
"It's the ideas, you see? If humans do not have memories, they will be weak." I left thinking about who would want revenge.
*
I woke up four days before my birthday.
Before my mother came into the room, I asked our slave: "Do you hate human beings?"
He looked disturbed.
"Personally, I think you were once a sublime race. You have fallen long after that... Well, you only use images and sounds now."
He turned off the boiling water.
"Do you remember last year, when the corpses staged a petition calling for citizenship?" There was a massacre.
*
I woke up and went to the ruins. A cement building, several leaves with symbols no one could read.
In the yellowed pages, the illustration of a giant with fire. That is it! We need to blow up the conspiracy.
"You must know something, something from your animal intuition, you have to tell me something. The slave revolt will occur" - my slave seemed very frightened.
"If you do not help me, I'll have you put to second death."
Afonso Junior Ferreira de Lima
https://afonsojunior.blogspot.com/2018/03/entropia.html
terça-feira, março 20, 2018
The killer (English version)
(This is a rush translation. The version may not be in its final form.)
His theory was that in each person was living a murderer.
That's how it all started.
Panic gripped the city.
Police began to search for the origin of these creatures who seemed insensitive to any human appeal. Two homeless people beheaded, three children drowned in fetid rivers, three prostitutes hacked to pieces, a politician impaled.
The only one captured was sedated by absolute uncontrol.
Momai was summoned to help, delayed to arrive due to the chaos in the traffic that still persisted two days after a frightening storm.
A search for network systems began; with the help of the hacker JM, searched the comments, messages and emails about these episodes.
One of them said: "Finally leftists and losers will be crushed."
Another: "It was already mimimi, the blindness of the communists will end up in blood."
From a certain date, the change of government, increase the expressions:
leftists get sick
humiliated lefties
lefts dumb
leftists blood
Found on the channel of the biggest conservative youtuber, famous for recording videos in political demonstrations mocking their participants, a comment: "TIF: ended the binge."
In groups of digital fascism and channels of youtubers who distilled hatred under the cover of freedom of expression, the constant interaction of three expressions:
Assault Troop
Combat League
TIF
Messages exchanged by the group WhatsBomba - "TIF General Assault Troop"
"Human rights prevent the arrest of bullies"
"Stopped in traffic because of fire. TIF to bring peace."
JM said:
"It seems that something has freed the groups from a previous containment. The code inherent in this system appears to be violence / repression. The system is organized by the force / morality torque pair. Does anything allow morale to become the force?
JM thought about tracking the data in resonance with "TIF." There was no clue as to what it was.
"Assault Troop" and "Combat League" were expressions used by digital activists for groups of "moral murder" through false reports of alleged Communists. It would seem that "TIF" would be an extreme form of "extermination combat".
The thing seemed to be an urban legend to some extent.
Finally, Momai can enter a hidden site called "Total Instinct Field".
The players remained within stiff walls, there were carcasses of animals and bones everywhere.
"Total Instinct Field" had been created by economist and experimental scientist Cesar Kurt.
"Your experiment allowed you to free the killer in every person," JM said. With a device that shook the brain, it was possible to completely paralyze the instinct containment systems.
The storm generated a crash in the system, there was escape.
Momai watched the city as it listened to "Blue Moon."
Afonso Jr. Fereira de Lima
His theory was that in each person was living a murderer.
That's how it all started.
Panic gripped the city.
Police began to search for the origin of these creatures who seemed insensitive to any human appeal. Two homeless people beheaded, three children drowned in fetid rivers, three prostitutes hacked to pieces, a politician impaled.
The only one captured was sedated by absolute uncontrol.
Momai was summoned to help, delayed to arrive due to the chaos in the traffic that still persisted two days after a frightening storm.
A search for network systems began; with the help of the hacker JM, searched the comments, messages and emails about these episodes.
One of them said: "Finally leftists and losers will be crushed."
Another: "It was already mimimi, the blindness of the communists will end up in blood."
From a certain date, the change of government, increase the expressions:
leftists get sick
humiliated lefties
lefts dumb
leftists blood
Found on the channel of the biggest conservative youtuber, famous for recording videos in political demonstrations mocking their participants, a comment: "TIF: ended the binge."
In groups of digital fascism and channels of youtubers who distilled hatred under the cover of freedom of expression, the constant interaction of three expressions:
Assault Troop
Combat League
TIF
Messages exchanged by the group WhatsBomba - "TIF General Assault Troop"
"Human rights prevent the arrest of bullies"
"Stopped in traffic because of fire. TIF to bring peace."
JM said:
"It seems that something has freed the groups from a previous containment. The code inherent in this system appears to be violence / repression. The system is organized by the force / morality torque pair. Does anything allow morale to become the force?
JM thought about tracking the data in resonance with "TIF." There was no clue as to what it was.
"Assault Troop" and "Combat League" were expressions used by digital activists for groups of "moral murder" through false reports of alleged Communists. It would seem that "TIF" would be an extreme form of "extermination combat".
The thing seemed to be an urban legend to some extent.
Finally, Momai can enter a hidden site called "Total Instinct Field".
The players remained within stiff walls, there were carcasses of animals and bones everywhere.
"Total Instinct Field" had been created by economist and experimental scientist Cesar Kurt.
"Your experiment allowed you to free the killer in every person," JM said. With a device that shook the brain, it was possible to completely paralyze the instinct containment systems.
The storm generated a crash in the system, there was escape.
Momai watched the city as it listened to "Blue Moon."
Afonso Jr. Fereira de Lima
segunda-feira, março 19, 2018
Entropia
Deixo neste diário algo que só virá à público talvez depois de minha morte. Não sei o que ocorreu e nem como tudo teve um resultado tão preciso. Mas devo registrar aqui o que ocorreu. Eu sei escrever.
*
Acordei no dia do meu aniversário com a luz cinzenta do outono. Minha mãe me deu um abraço toda contente, íamos até as cavernas fazer aquele passeio que eu tanto queria.
Nosso escravo preparou o café e me desejou boa sorte.
O recepcionista da pousada disse que estavam com um pouco de medo, havia ocorrido um acidente com um memória alguns dias antes. Ninguém sabia ainda a causa.
O homem de barbas brancas nos recebeu sorridente.
- Havia um tempo, ele disse, em que se grafava a alma em pedras e superfícies macias. Agora, somos nós. Sobre o que você deseja saber?
- A origem dos cadáveres escravos, eu disse.
*
Acordei com uma espécie de zumbido no ouvido, um vento de outono. Demorei para ver o que estava ao meu redor. As paredes, o chão, os móveis. Levantei com um pulo. Eu não deveria estar no quarto da pousada?
Coloquei minha roupa e desci.
- Mãe? Isso é um sonho?
- O quê meu amor? - ela disse.
Eu fui até meu quarto de novo - sem querer quebrei o vaso oriental perto da escada - e olhei meu calendário. Faltava um dia para meu aniversário.
*
O vaso oriental estava inteiro.
Meu pai chega para me visitar.
- Não poderei estar aqui no seu dia.
- Pai, você ouviu falar de algum acidente com um memória?
- Você precisa parar com essa obsessão com o passado. Não serve pra nada. O que produz são os números. Você vai acabar preso como subversivo.
Nosso escravo cadáver ligou a TV.
- Acidente mata um memória na praia 9-200.
- Isso não aconteceu - eu disse.
*
Eu corri até a estação de notícias.
Expliquei para meia dúzia de pessoas que tinha "uma bomba". Finalmente sentei na sala do homem magro e de aparência doentia.
- Amanhã ocorrerá um acidente na praia 9-200. Vocês precisam cobrir o evento - eu disse.
O repórter parecia nervoso:
- Menino, estamos investigando uma série de atentados com bombas e um sequestro. Não venha...
- De quem?
- Um cientista.
Eu levantei e parei na porta.
- São as ideias, percebe? Se os seres humanos não tiverem lembranças, serão fracos. Saí pensando em quem desejaria vingança.
*
Acordei quatro dias antes de meu aniversário.
Antes de minha mãe chegar na sala, perguntei ao nosso escravo:
- Vocês odeiam os seres humanos?
Ele pareceu perturbado.
- Pessoalmente, acho que já foram uma raça sublime. Vocês decaíram muito depois que... Bem, vocês usam apenas imagens e sons agora.
Ele desligou a água, que fervia.
- Você lembra ano passado, quando os cadáveres fizeram uma manifestação pedindo direito à cidadania? Houve um massacre.
*
Acordei e fui até as ruínas. Um prédio de cimento, várias folhas com símbolos que ninguém sabia ler.
Nas páginas amareladas, a ilustração de um gigante com fogo. É isso! Precisamos explodir a conspiração.
- Você deve saber algo, algo pela sua intuição animal, você precisa me dizer alguma coisa. A revolta dos escravos vai ocorrer - meu escravo parecia muito assustado.
- Se você não me ajudar vou fazer com que te coloquem em segunda morte.
Afonso Junior Ferreira de Lima
*
Acordei no dia do meu aniversário com a luz cinzenta do outono. Minha mãe me deu um abraço toda contente, íamos até as cavernas fazer aquele passeio que eu tanto queria.
Nosso escravo preparou o café e me desejou boa sorte.
O recepcionista da pousada disse que estavam com um pouco de medo, havia ocorrido um acidente com um memória alguns dias antes. Ninguém sabia ainda a causa.
O homem de barbas brancas nos recebeu sorridente.
- Havia um tempo, ele disse, em que se grafava a alma em pedras e superfícies macias. Agora, somos nós. Sobre o que você deseja saber?
- A origem dos cadáveres escravos, eu disse.
*
Acordei com uma espécie de zumbido no ouvido, um vento de outono. Demorei para ver o que estava ao meu redor. As paredes, o chão, os móveis. Levantei com um pulo. Eu não deveria estar no quarto da pousada?
Coloquei minha roupa e desci.
- Mãe? Isso é um sonho?
- O quê meu amor? - ela disse.
Eu fui até meu quarto de novo - sem querer quebrei o vaso oriental perto da escada - e olhei meu calendário. Faltava um dia para meu aniversário.
*
O vaso oriental estava inteiro.
Meu pai chega para me visitar.
- Não poderei estar aqui no seu dia.
- Pai, você ouviu falar de algum acidente com um memória?
- Você precisa parar com essa obsessão com o passado. Não serve pra nada. O que produz são os números. Você vai acabar preso como subversivo.
Nosso escravo cadáver ligou a TV.
- Acidente mata um memória na praia 9-200.
- Isso não aconteceu - eu disse.
*
Eu corri até a estação de notícias.
Expliquei para meia dúzia de pessoas que tinha "uma bomba". Finalmente sentei na sala do homem magro e de aparência doentia.
- Amanhã ocorrerá um acidente na praia 9-200. Vocês precisam cobrir o evento - eu disse.
O repórter parecia nervoso:
- Menino, estamos investigando uma série de atentados com bombas e um sequestro. Não venha...
- De quem?
- Um cientista.
Eu levantei e parei na porta.
- São as ideias, percebe? Se os seres humanos não tiverem lembranças, serão fracos. Saí pensando em quem desejaria vingança.
*
Acordei quatro dias antes de meu aniversário.
Antes de minha mãe chegar na sala, perguntei ao nosso escravo:
- Vocês odeiam os seres humanos?
Ele pareceu perturbado.
- Pessoalmente, acho que já foram uma raça sublime. Vocês decaíram muito depois que... Bem, vocês usam apenas imagens e sons agora.
Ele desligou a água, que fervia.
- Você lembra ano passado, quando os cadáveres fizeram uma manifestação pedindo direito à cidadania? Houve um massacre.
*
Acordei e fui até as ruínas. Um prédio de cimento, várias folhas com símbolos que ninguém sabia ler.
Nas páginas amareladas, a ilustração de um gigante com fogo. É isso! Precisamos explodir a conspiração.
- Você deve saber algo, algo pela sua intuição animal, você precisa me dizer alguma coisa. A revolta dos escravos vai ocorrer - meu escravo parecia muito assustado.
- Se você não me ajudar vou fazer com que te coloquem em segunda morte.
Afonso Junior Ferreira de Lima
domingo, março 18, 2018
The bridge (English version)
(This is a rush translation. Version may not be in its final form.)
The general was called to the lab.
He received information from Dr. Alves himself.
He remembered the legend told by the old general. He sent the men to fetch him.
After his death, L. was placed in a sack.
Inside the brass, cement, bottoming in the Tietê river.
The old general went to the wall, opened a safe.
The iron ball seemed inscribed with ancient symbols.
He pressed a kind of button.
The mechanism opened.
- We need a strong magnetic field.
The body on the asphalt in the rain.
He knew he'd seen this before.
He went back to his office. He looked for the files.
The bullet is the same.
"Our best men are dead," said the general. "At that time, the Police and Army had only one tactic. War of low intensity. We knew how to use torture, informants, vigilantes in search of information, neutralizing, disarticulating the opposition. Now, let's get this information again. Einstein-Rosen."
The French agents had studied with the Germans.
In the forest, secret area, they developed their theory.
Von Rotten imagined how to convey information.
- Simulate running over. Throw the body in front of the truck.
I took care of him in the last night.
He knew he would be killed, four agents will kill him in the morning. We can not repent.
The people we fight for are in power.
Von Rotten was walking in the woods with the young officer.
"In theory, two particles created together end up having a connection that seems to ignore the realism of spacetime. A paradox, or classical intuition does not correspond to physical reality. What if two singularities were entangled and separated from each other?
No clothes. Helpless.
"There never was. No rape" - the policeman told the priest.
The bishop went personally to visit the Battalion. He was there.
"After giving the wolf the taste of blood, it will not be civilized."
The ship comes back from Paris.
Algeria was research.
Lessons with foreign teachers.
- He's dangerous. A religious fanatic", the policeman said of the businessman.
He organized groups to fight the war - the strange internal war.
The ancient torturer is now a minister.
Research with the Germans has been shelved.
"We now know that it is possible to send a signal from the present to the past by changing a tangled particle. It would be dangerous for the French people, the minister said.
- Argentines are the worst. They like to learn.
In Chile the information leads to hunting.
The businessman wanted to use torture in his own people.
- I know where it is. The old general went to the wall, opened a safe.
"Von Rotten wanted to send information through space-time to train the men in the colonies. He told us that in the future we would know how to handle the entanglement of particles, causing a connection tube to be created.
Afonso Junior Ferreira de Lima
The general was called to the lab.
He received information from Dr. Alves himself.
He remembered the legend told by the old general. He sent the men to fetch him.
After his death, L. was placed in a sack.
Inside the brass, cement, bottoming in the Tietê river.
The old general went to the wall, opened a safe.
The iron ball seemed inscribed with ancient symbols.
He pressed a kind of button.
The mechanism opened.
- We need a strong magnetic field.
The body on the asphalt in the rain.
He knew he'd seen this before.
He went back to his office. He looked for the files.
The bullet is the same.
"Our best men are dead," said the general. "At that time, the Police and Army had only one tactic. War of low intensity. We knew how to use torture, informants, vigilantes in search of information, neutralizing, disarticulating the opposition. Now, let's get this information again. Einstein-Rosen."
The French agents had studied with the Germans.
In the forest, secret area, they developed their theory.
Von Rotten imagined how to convey information.
- Simulate running over. Throw the body in front of the truck.
I took care of him in the last night.
He knew he would be killed, four agents will kill him in the morning. We can not repent.
The people we fight for are in power.
Von Rotten was walking in the woods with the young officer.
"In theory, two particles created together end up having a connection that seems to ignore the realism of spacetime. A paradox, or classical intuition does not correspond to physical reality. What if two singularities were entangled and separated from each other?
No clothes. Helpless.
"There never was. No rape" - the policeman told the priest.
The bishop went personally to visit the Battalion. He was there.
"After giving the wolf the taste of blood, it will not be civilized."
The ship comes back from Paris.
Algeria was research.
Lessons with foreign teachers.
- He's dangerous. A religious fanatic", the policeman said of the businessman.
He organized groups to fight the war - the strange internal war.
The ancient torturer is now a minister.
Research with the Germans has been shelved.
"We now know that it is possible to send a signal from the present to the past by changing a tangled particle. It would be dangerous for the French people, the minister said.
- Argentines are the worst. They like to learn.
In Chile the information leads to hunting.
The businessman wanted to use torture in his own people.
- I know where it is. The old general went to the wall, opened a safe.
"Von Rotten wanted to send information through space-time to train the men in the colonies. He told us that in the future we would know how to handle the entanglement of particles, causing a connection tube to be created.
Afonso Junior Ferreira de Lima
A ponte
O general foi chamado ao laboratório.
Depois de morto, L. foi colocado num saco.
Dentro do latão, cimento, caindo fundo no rio Tietê.
O velho general foi até a parede, abriu um cofre.
A bola de ferro parecia inscrita com símbolos antigos.
Ele apertou uma espécie de botão.
O mecanismo abriu-se.
- Precisamos de um campo magnético forte.
O corpo no asfalto sob a chuva.
Ele sabia que já tinha visto isso antes.
Voltou ao escritório. Procurou os arquivos.
A bala é a mesma.
O navio volta de Paris.
A Argélia era pesquisa.
- Os argentinos são os piores. Gostam de aprender.
No Chile as informações levam à caça.
O empresário queria usar a tortura no seu próprio povo.
- Eu sei onde está. O velho general foi até a parede, abriu um cofre.
Afonso Junior Ferreira de Lima
Recebeu as informações do próprio doutor Alves.
Ele lembrava da lenda contada pelo velho general. Enviou os homens para buscá-lo.
Depois de morto, L. foi colocado num saco.
Dentro do latão, cimento, caindo fundo no rio Tietê.
O velho general foi até a parede, abriu um cofre.
A bola de ferro parecia inscrita com símbolos antigos.
Ele apertou uma espécie de botão.
O mecanismo abriu-se.
- Precisamos de um campo magnético forte.
O corpo no asfalto sob a chuva.
Ele sabia que já tinha visto isso antes.
Voltou ao escritório. Procurou os arquivos.
A bala é a mesma.
- Nossos melhores homens já morreram - disse o general. Naquela época, Polícia e Exército tinham uma só tática. Guerra de baixa intensidade. Sabíamos como usar tortura, informantes, vigilantes em busca de informação, neutralizando, desarticulando a oposição. Agora, vamos ter essa informação de novo. Einstein-Rosen.
Os agentes franceses haviam estudado com os alemães.
Na floresta, área secreta, desenvolviam sua teoria.
Von Rotten imaginava como transmitir informação.
- Simular atropelamento. Jogar o corpo em frente ao caminhão.
Tomei conta dele na última noite.
Sabia que seria morto, quatro agentes vão matá-lo. Não podemos nos arrepender.
As pessoas que nós combatemos estão no poder.
Von Rotten caminhava pela floresta com o jovem oficial.
- Em teoria, duas partículas criadas juntas acabam tendo uma ligação que parece ignorar o realismo do espaço-tempo. Um paradoxo, ou a intuição clássica não corresponde à realidade física. E se duas singularidades fossem emaranhadas e separadas uma da outra?
Von Rotten caminhava pela floresta com o jovem oficial.
- Em teoria, duas partículas criadas juntas acabam tendo uma ligação que parece ignorar o realismo do espaço-tempo. Um paradoxo, ou a intuição clássica não corresponde à realidade física. E se duas singularidades fossem emaranhadas e separadas uma da outra?
Sem roupa. Indefesa.
- Nunca houve isso. Estupro não - disse o policial ao padre.
O bispo foi pessoalmente visitar o Batalhão. Ele estava lá.
- Depois de dar ao lobo o gosto de sangue, ele não será civilizado.
A Argélia era pesquisa.
Aulas com professores estrangeiros.
- Ele é perigoso. Um fanático religioso - disse o policial sobre o empresário.
Ele organizou grupos para combater a guerra - a estranha guerra interna.
O antigo torturador agora é ministro.
A pesquisa com os alemães foi arquivada.
- Agora sabemos que é possível enviar um sinal do presente para o passado, alterando uma partícula emaranhada. Seria perigoso para o povo francês, disse o ministro.
No Chile as informações levam à caça.
O empresário queria usar a tortura no seu próprio povo.
- Eu sei onde está. O velho general foi até a parede, abriu um cofre.
- Von Rotten queria enviar informações pelo espaço-tempo para treinar os homens nas colônias. Ele nos dizia que no futuro saberíamos manejar o emaranhamento de partículas, fazendo com que um tubo-de-conexão se crie.
sábado, março 17, 2018
The mansion (English version)
(This is a rush translation. Version may not be in its final form.)
Lord Kevin loved entering the mansion like all mortals, watching the lights on upstairs, centered among the white columns. She always waited at the door.
- My love! One more year! She kissed his cool body.
Always liked the eighteenth century decor of the mansion, the wood of the doors, the golden details of the ceiling, the diamond chandeliers.
She had been a child who saw ghosts, lived in the decomposing mansion of her grandmother, and began to write the stories they told her in dreams. When they first met, on the day of the release of their first book on vampires (he wanted to get that nasty word out of the dictionary), she realized immediately when she looked into his gray eyes. Twenty years ago they were on the eve of Halloween; she loved to hear his accounts of what he had lived, especially about ancient Rome and Paris in the tumults of 1848.
She was interested in writing a novel about immortals amid bloody repression.
- Eight thousand people went to the Bordeaux cemetery to dedicate a monument to Flora Tristan, a feminist who died four years earlier. "The workers' union" spoke of emancipation of women and union of the oppressed. Is not it fabulous?
He gave her details about the "good wife" expected by everyone, "the order and discipline that kept the warmth of the home."
- The historian Michelet saw civilization as the fruit of the struggle between reason, spirit, man against matter, the Orient and woman ...
They dined on the table with twelve candles and six vacant chairs, the white moonlight streaming through the tall windows.
- You call me idealistic and romantic ... I never understood how an immortal being can approve the vulgar materialism and the worldview without moral values of a Bávárov. The human being should be just an animal - but can mankind be stable with many animals like that?
They had been discussing Turgenev for years. Behind it all, her dream of to die for this life, her idealization of murder out of necessity, her insane quest for intensity. That's why he loved her.
"Did I tell you I met him?" He was vain, he loved a married woman, he walked elegantly through Paris, but I could see his blank stare. I watched him. He could not believe the weak generation of the 1840s, plunged into words because his Russia was still feudal ... He was actually suffering from the ill-treatment his mother imposed on the enslaved. But he was shocked at the idea that in this new world, glory would mean violence, not beauty.
- A young man in love says: "As a rule you should not miss people" ... The monster always suffers in the old films.
The fireplace was lit, despite the not too cold day. The noise of the night birds and the violin. She would not have imagined what he'd been through.
"I must say that every predator should fear for the end of humanity, which would be the end of his race. I have always believed that the strongest should prevail, just like any French aristocrat, but I see that complete extinction is a possibility. The working class admires those who despise it, wants to conquer a new apparatus, its ideal is to win alone. The new aristocracy does not produce more. The calculations are autonomous, lead to nothing but the irrational. At the end of the bourgeois plan is a fire, when each one took care of his garden and nobody watched the storm coming.
They walked through the green, the statue of Artemis in the lake full of plants.
Kevin felt himself in the presence of a feminine version of himself, could go with her to bed, could make his blood spurt out of pure desire of union. And yet they both knew it would never happen.
They sat on the bench as usual. She said:
"What I like most about the monster is that it has an ambiguous heart".
Afonso Junior Ferreira de Lima
Lord Kevin loved entering the mansion like all mortals, watching the lights on upstairs, centered among the white columns. She always waited at the door.
- My love! One more year! She kissed his cool body.
Always liked the eighteenth century decor of the mansion, the wood of the doors, the golden details of the ceiling, the diamond chandeliers.
She had been a child who saw ghosts, lived in the decomposing mansion of her grandmother, and began to write the stories they told her in dreams. When they first met, on the day of the release of their first book on vampires (he wanted to get that nasty word out of the dictionary), she realized immediately when she looked into his gray eyes. Twenty years ago they were on the eve of Halloween; she loved to hear his accounts of what he had lived, especially about ancient Rome and Paris in the tumults of 1848.
She was interested in writing a novel about immortals amid bloody repression.
- Eight thousand people went to the Bordeaux cemetery to dedicate a monument to Flora Tristan, a feminist who died four years earlier. "The workers' union" spoke of emancipation of women and union of the oppressed. Is not it fabulous?
He gave her details about the "good wife" expected by everyone, "the order and discipline that kept the warmth of the home."
- The historian Michelet saw civilization as the fruit of the struggle between reason, spirit, man against matter, the Orient and woman ...
They dined on the table with twelve candles and six vacant chairs, the white moonlight streaming through the tall windows.
- You call me idealistic and romantic ... I never understood how an immortal being can approve the vulgar materialism and the worldview without moral values of a Bávárov. The human being should be just an animal - but can mankind be stable with many animals like that?
They had been discussing Turgenev for years. Behind it all, her dream of to die for this life, her idealization of murder out of necessity, her insane quest for intensity. That's why he loved her.
"Did I tell you I met him?" He was vain, he loved a married woman, he walked elegantly through Paris, but I could see his blank stare. I watched him. He could not believe the weak generation of the 1840s, plunged into words because his Russia was still feudal ... He was actually suffering from the ill-treatment his mother imposed on the enslaved. But he was shocked at the idea that in this new world, glory would mean violence, not beauty.
- A young man in love says: "As a rule you should not miss people" ... The monster always suffers in the old films.
The fireplace was lit, despite the not too cold day. The noise of the night birds and the violin. She would not have imagined what he'd been through.
"I must say that every predator should fear for the end of humanity, which would be the end of his race. I have always believed that the strongest should prevail, just like any French aristocrat, but I see that complete extinction is a possibility. The working class admires those who despise it, wants to conquer a new apparatus, its ideal is to win alone. The new aristocracy does not produce more. The calculations are autonomous, lead to nothing but the irrational. At the end of the bourgeois plan is a fire, when each one took care of his garden and nobody watched the storm coming.
They walked through the green, the statue of Artemis in the lake full of plants.
Kevin felt himself in the presence of a feminine version of himself, could go with her to bed, could make his blood spurt out of pure desire of union. And yet they both knew it would never happen.
They sat on the bench as usual. She said:
"What I like most about the monster is that it has an ambiguous heart".
Afonso Junior Ferreira de Lima
segunda-feira, março 12, 2018
Elizabeth Costa Spiel (English version)
(This is a rush translation. Version may not be in its final form.)
I do not think it's funny. No. The rain began at eight o'clock in the morning, at noon it was a storm, a hurricane at three o'clock. The light fell. I looked for a candle, the light was fading. Without moon. The pool, a black spot down there. The view of the valley was a black stain. I walked in the dark. My cell phone ran out of battery power, I could not read, I could not hear music, I could not fuck anyone. I thought knock on the neighbor´s door, I gave up in a second. Night was coming. And I thought it worked, when I married the right guy. He paid me a whiskey, bought me a car, and took me to his house in the mountains. Yesterday, I had television. I remembered the strange things in my life. A long fascinating life with all sorts of strange things and people. My character could talk like that.
A poor and crazy mother, who left the girl with a crazy and deaf grandmother to dance around. They dance in the dark. I never understood the whiskey, she says. Yesterday, some people died, he says. There were more than a few people, in fact, she says. I tell him, that's not enough. Can speak. That alone is not enough. As long as they stay in place, he says. My job demands a lot from me, he says. Let the best win, he says. The government said it was not going to pay wages. He has other plans. Cops do not work for free. My character could talk like that. A father died very early. The mother cried little and put flowers for three years, then tired. He, I knew him where I was working. They danced in the dark. Thinking well. I can not write in the dark. The cops do not work for free, I say. Now, we, we know. He has other plans. He needs the crisis. Then the deaths began.
Yesterday, I had television. My character could talk like that. We got along, me and her. I never missed the cutlery. We bought pearl bags together. I've never asked the wrong questions, his mother never asked the wrong questions, we're happy. The night has come. A strange feeling. Experiment cover the head with the comforter. Yesterday, some people died. They were more than a few people, actually. It's not that bad, he says. He's driving around and there's not a single cop in town. Life always finds a way, he says. Maybe I did not deserve it, my mother says. Experiment stretching, dancing in the dark. I try to eat something in the dark. Experiment to take a deep breath. I look out there. I do not see anything. Now I have to stay here alone, I thought, alone in my bed in a complete darkness in the world. Still a storm. All kinds of strange things and people. A fascinating long life.
I do not think it's funny. No. The rain began at eight o'clock in the morning, at noon it was a storm, a hurricane at three o'clock. The light fell. I looked for a candle, the light was fading. Without moon. The pool, a black spot down there. The view of the valley was a black stain. I walked in the dark. My cell phone ran out of battery power, I could not read, I could not hear music, I could not fuck anyone. I thought knock on the neighbor´s door, I gave up in a second. Night was coming. And I thought it worked, when I married the right guy. He paid me a whiskey, bought me a car, and took me to his house in the mountains. Yesterday, I had television. I remembered the strange things in my life. A long fascinating life with all sorts of strange things and people. My character could talk like that.
A poor and crazy mother, who left the girl with a crazy and deaf grandmother to dance around. They dance in the dark. I never understood the whiskey, she says. Yesterday, some people died, he says. There were more than a few people, in fact, she says. I tell him, that's not enough. Can speak. That alone is not enough. As long as they stay in place, he says. My job demands a lot from me, he says. Let the best win, he says. The government said it was not going to pay wages. He has other plans. Cops do not work for free. My character could talk like that. A father died very early. The mother cried little and put flowers for three years, then tired. He, I knew him where I was working. They danced in the dark. Thinking well. I can not write in the dark. The cops do not work for free, I say. Now, we, we know. He has other plans. He needs the crisis. Then the deaths began.
Yesterday, I had television. My character could talk like that. We got along, me and her. I never missed the cutlery. We bought pearl bags together. I've never asked the wrong questions, his mother never asked the wrong questions, we're happy. The night has come. A strange feeling. Experiment cover the head with the comforter. Yesterday, some people died. They were more than a few people, actually. It's not that bad, he says. He's driving around and there's not a single cop in town. Life always finds a way, he says. Maybe I did not deserve it, my mother says. Experiment stretching, dancing in the dark. I try to eat something in the dark. Experiment to take a deep breath. I look out there. I do not see anything. Now I have to stay here alone, I thought, alone in my bed in a complete darkness in the world. Still a storm. All kinds of strange things and people. A fascinating long life.
Afonso Jr Ferreira de Lima
domingo, março 11, 2018
terça-feira, março 06, 2018
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