segunda-feira, 26 de outubro de 2009



Just another busy sunday and all sorts of people rushed back and forth up and down the city streets of the most Cosmopolitan and knowned countrie´s Capital . Most of them where local shop owners hoping to do a little business with the end of the of the summer tourist flow.Local kids filled the shopping centers looking for the next bloodiest movie on screen. Also some retired old people left theirhomes in search of a little company and some wine in the local an not so more proeminent taverns.Turists of all nationalities could be seen here and there looking for some "rare tresour" trought the local store windows.Most of them I presume felt ripped off because the items being sold were exactly the same items that were sold at the shopping centers at their countries.

That´s one of the problems of globalization I suppose,we all get more and more similar to one another like xerox machine copies.Eating the same food, dressing the same clothes,listening to the same music,working in the same jobs,living by the same standarts everywhere and carrying our lives like a heavy burden day in day out.(Sorry,I feel a little sour today).But I´m beginning to loose myself,I was about to tell you a few little stories that happened yesterday.O.K. Once again from the beginning...I sat down in a busy and popular Street café and had a few beers just relaxing looking at the river and listening to the murmur of the many diffeent spoken languages around me.

The portuguese got mixed with the French ,English, Italian and Japanese language creating an international loud and lively sound that is suposed to exist in every busy and frequented Street café.The smell of roasted chestnuts filled the air as a local vendor appeared pushing a little cart on wheels topped by what it seemed to be a a little chimney.This little chimney was in fact a roasting pot attatched to the cart that was a furnace on wheels filled with hot coal. These kind of furnaces have to be nowadays electric ovens because of the "profilactic higienic don´t breathe next to me or you might fill me with germs new European laws of safety and higiene " They´re made of Inox stainless steel which really "steals" the characteristic flavour of thePortuguese roated chestnuts coocked in hot coal.So they just passed from formidable to edible.The profession itself is ending because in a faster and non stop increasing futuristic developing world sadly there seems to be no room for "ambulant vendors" that stroll little karts along the sidewalks .So, only the very poor people still carry the traditions of the old professions. I lifted my chair and bought half a dozen roasted chestnuts from the vendor,as he passed me the rolled hot newspaper wrapped package and shouted the usuall "get them while their hot" street cry for everyone that wanted to listen.I sat back down and a few Japanese tourists lifted their seats and bought themselves some chestnuts.I saw them munching away in sheer delight.Among them was a Woman that was breastfeeding her baby while eating chestnuts and drinking some beer.

The Café manager rushed towards me and approached my table saying -Sir,I´m sorry but ,you can´t eat here, house polilitics you see?

I tought to myself that perhaps I had" asshole" written in my forehead or maybeI forgot to shower and shave.After all I was giving a bad example to tourists buying local edible items from street vendors that might be filled with horrendous rat size virus and probably didn´t washed their hands before lunch. Or maybe this idiot didn´t liked a little healthy competition from the local street vendors.

Come again? -I asked (Measuring this fellow up and down looking for the best spot to kick him).

-It´s like I tell you,you can´t eat anything that isn´t bought in the Café.-Well,and what about drink? -I asked.Because that little fellow over there is drinking milk that wasn´t bought in your Café so I really think you should speak to him !?!

I pointed at the Japanese lady as she breastfed her baby in the most natural and spontaneous way that mother´s do for millions of years.The faggot left mumbling in a low voice some uncomprehemsible nasty words probably against my mother as he rushed inside the Café. As the woman drank the beer the kid suckled like there was no tomorrow and would probably finish his meal happy and drunk.

I noticed how a group of customers(all men) gouged their eyes at the half showing breast of the woman.I tought to myself that these poor fellows were all probably bottlefed when they were infants.I paid my bill and left the Café table laughing to myself and made my way up hill taking the electric street car with "nowhere" as my destination point .I couldn´t help to notice watching trough the electric car window a lonely crow circling up in the air.A lonely black dot contrasting theAutumn greish sky colour.You see there used to be a lot of Crows in my hometown but an influencial someone had the brilliant idea that these guys weren´t higienic and they would be best off in some zoo.Now only a few of them were seen from time to time circling the air without destination. True outcasts (I tought to myself ) free and worthy enough to roam God´s neverending sky but unworthy to set foot in land because they wereBlack and ugly birds of evil omen never fullfilling the standards of the chubby blond white wing cherubs created by mens twisted idea of worth. And I fell sorry about that because I´ve always loved the crows.

Not knowing really why,I started laughing out loud.

-The urge of lifting up statues is as powerfull as the urge of knocking them down.

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