(This is a rush translation. The version may not be in its final form.)
He thought he was being chased when he took a car to leave the Opera House.
I was scared, in fact, I would gain a distinction that my father had never had.
When did I meet him? In a café in Vienna, where the slow decay of Laplace's devil, of the objectivism of science which he considered indestructible, was fervently discussed. Freud looked nervous that day.
I went up on the stage, received the diploma, had the impression of seeing him in the audience and fainted as the most foolish animal created by evolution.
Guilt is always a duplicate, the doctor wrote in his office.
The world's oldest empire, anti-Semitic people assaulting, a flourishing industry, banks, "dissociation", dance, music, theater: men gathered in their club to debate logic and epistemology.
I cross a street, I enter a dark alley, that man looks dark, he dresses in disarray, but nevertheless. However. Is it me?
I went to attend his lecture, there were about twenty people listening to someone who, like Musil, would speak of the "secret existence in man," and he said: the parents would be the first objects of the child's erotic desires, incited by the parents themselves; the feelings would be of hostility, both as well as tenderness. Balance: two women in a hat go out in whispers, a tall man in gray suit seems to sleep, three men in a manner of students applaud standing and silence.
Now I'm sure. He exists and is in this coffee shop. Did he look in that direction? Do I invite you to sit down? He's getting up, he's coming, I'm cold.
... On the deck chair, the doctor is dreaming awake: he saw in the distance the ghost of his dead sister, and closer, a young woman in a summer dress, who seemed to call him to life. - First drafts.
A mask, his face seemed to have changed.
I´m Arthur, I have an office, we can be friends.
Afonso Jr Ferreira de Lima, 2014
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