(This is a rush translation. The version may not be in its final form.)
K is a ghost. He should have a goal since he is a character. He should have obstacles.
K. circles the avenue of the cemetery. The bones were buried beneath the new store. An agreement with the city hall. They're ghosts on the escalators.
Trapped in the penal colony. He always thought it was comic the justice as torture gear. "The condemned was the most excited, everything in the machine interested him." Condemned without knowing why.
K stands in an avenue, lights, the rock of the margin, waiting for the flow of cars that will not stop just because it has a pedestrian strip. Ghosts are educated.
He was born in the ghetto, the tongue is another out there. The heir is killed, the Empress murdered, the heir murdered. He knew the warm and dangerous time of waiting. He wants to play and live the same life differently every day.
K went to see the supermarket promotion, euphoria. The cash girl talks about the new labor law, says she'll go crazy if she counts money from ten in the morning to ten at night.
He liked to think about what we see, but we can´t understand. He thinks he must not understand. Everyone has thought of everything for you. The law is just another horror.
The third act ends with no conclusions. No one has improved. He also did not learn. He does not know if, in fact, they are not right, relentless logic, flawless doctrine, to grow and to advance, he only knows that what he can is is to remain what it is.
K sees the glass rising up to the sky, the lights on the facade, palm trees, the Japanese garden, a sculpture decorated with lights. K sits in the theater and looks at the empty chairs, the show will start. The protagonist is mediocre but beautiful. The boy behind him tells his girlfriend that he wants to leave.
The greatest of thinkers, with hammer blows, like the ordinary Victorian bourgeois, despises the common man. The "well-born", proud of themselves, despising the morality of compassion, the contempt and irony of the powerful.
Lawyer K. He was a ghost before he died. Remember the funeral of the grandfather, the castle on the hill. He felt that Madame Bovary was him, in a gray life. He resigned because he could not write.
K count the hungry miserable people on the way: on the subway stairs, without shoes in front of the supermarket, wrapped in white cloth like a caterpillar, shorts only, with a back curved by a deficiency, trousers loose and shaggy and white hair, etc. etc.
The city is ugly, the city is the monster structure, the city is built by the absurd. "What are the dangers of the forest and the savannah compared to the daily clashes of the civilized world?" He has seen it all before, he is very tired, he dreams walking.
Afonso Jr. Ferreira de Lima, 2017
https://afonsojunior.blogspot.com/2017/12/o-flaneur.html
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