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Alone in the main chapel of the Santa Maria da Vitória Monastery with stone and stone and stone and stained glass windows around I wait for the mystic light that converted Paul Claudel at Notre-Dame de Paris without any explanation from quantum physics or

At the half-open mouth looking for an exit tongue caresses the palate tired from the teeth erosion. Na boca entreaberta à procura de saída a língua acaricia o palato cansada da erosão dos dentes. by Armando

Speaking to me addiction while I write to me in comma's solitude hindrances of thought in dots' silence paragraphs of everything weaved in the game of words that we lose cause we repeat things that pressure the blood too much more than veins

There isn't light enough to clearly see the insects insidious flight under the trees and birds shadow the batrachian's libidinous shine at the puddle of females sticking in the mud the cloud's cornucopia suggesting winged gods the