the writer, the character and their three worlds

joão was born. it is a fictional human as any other human in any imaginable world. it grow and went to school to study, to outside home to work, to mate, to marry, to inside home to watch tv, to shit, to wake, to outside home to look for a job, to bet in the lottery, to get a beer, to cure a cancer, to inside home to fear death, to write its will, to pray, to outside home, to get into a bed inside a hospital, to leave it outside a coffin, to see its offspring forgetting, swearing, to receive a letter from its god. the god is me. i'm the writer of this short story and i must tell you, my creation, that you have the chance to change your past. but you don't have free will to do so, because i chose for you already. you have bad luck, you was created in the first world.

joão was born. it is a fictional human as any other human in any imaginable world. it grow and went to school to study, to outside home to work, to mate, to marry, to inside home to watch tv, to shit, to wake, to outside home to look for a job, to bet in the lottery, to get a beer, to cure a cancer, to inside home to fear death, to write its will, to pray, to outside home, to get into a bed inside a hospital, to leave it outside a coffin, to see its offspring forgetting, swearing, to receive a letter from its god. the god is me. i'm the writer of this short story and i must tell you, my creation, that you have the chance to change your past. but you don't have free will to do so, because i chose for you already. you have bad luck too, you was created in the second world. i will change your fate and you won't meet me in this end and have the chance to undo everything. you will change your past and you won't kill your grandfather and eventualy not be born to kill your grandfather at all. because you will be rich the next time. you wanted to be rich, and you will. now you will send a letter to yourself in the past with the right numbers for the lotery and you will buy a porshe and a big castle and a woman with big breasts and blonde hair that will kill you and all you get.

joão was born. it is a fictional human as any other human in any imaginable world. it grow and went to school to study, to outside home to work, to mate, to marry, to inside home to watch tv, to shit, to wake, to outside home to look for a job, to receive a letter from nowhere, to bet in the lottery and win, to buy a porsche, a big castle and a woman with big breasts and blonde hair to kill yourself. i'm the writer of this short story and i must tell you, my creation, that you had the chance to change your past. but you don't have free will to do so, because i chose for you already.

view from the sky

it was the first time i was inside an airplane. and over the clouds. the whole country was stormy. that cloud gray day. but the airplane got very high, higher than everest. above the clouds. it was very strange to me. to see a sunny day above that cotton clouds. it was so sunny that many passengers shut the windows because the white clouds were so shiny and blinding. it was like reading those white pages under direct sunlight. it was like trying to read. white blindness. whitout the clouds, the land without during daytime wasn't amazing. it seemed as photos taken from sattelites. those crops filling the rural lands with silly geometrical shapes. and there were the town, too small. and even the cities seemed small. all made of light brown roof. no one cares about top view, unless some extinct tribes of the deserts of america. maybe the great wall. the rivers were struggling big snakes. but one city amazed me. it was são paulo. inside it, steping on the floor, it was just scaring big and poluted in every way. but from the top of it, while landing, it impressed me. because even from the top of it, every side i looked at was full of buildings. i think that even a giant ant would get lost on it. godzilla is small. and that was during daytime. during nighttime it was even more impressive. the cities seemed alive. the light brown roofs turned to a deep black, as all the land surrounding the cities. all the could be seen was the street. yellow lamps. veins. urban veins. and it seemed to have blood running through it. i guess it was the cars, small blood cells. those cities and towns looked as shiny algae in the bottom of the sea. or microorganisms in a microscope view. so tiny. one after another in matter of seconds in a flight while i would need minutes or hours traveling by bus. from above, i discovered why the sky is blue. i watched distant lands in the horizon, but they turned to be more and more blue as far as i watched. sea of air. as a giant swimming pool. and the sea. the sea from above is a little boring. i saw many beaches, and the waves arriving, i think. or just white sand banks almost on the surface.

then i wonder why you never told me about your flights. only about jet lag. maybe you're so used to it as the passengers next to the windows that take a nap after shuting them. soon i will preffer to sleep too rather than watching the view, as i do while traveling by bus. but maybe, those are impressions that can't be shared at all over words.

A Brazilian in Saigon

It's not so surprising, actually. Though if you come to the Philippines, I'm sure you'd be the first one in Bambang. There are a lot of white people here. The kind that I don't like, more than any other. The kind that bargains with prostitutes over a sum less than $6 USD. Coming from Belgium, as far as I can tell by the accent, or some other European country. Makes me sick. Anyway, the Brazilian tried with Skype to call his mother, but the connection just wasn't that great. I'm here, thinking about whether to buy some juice or be stingy by saving that extra dollar, due to having to have taken a more expensive room tomorrow night. I'm skimping on juice, while the other tourists here are going for foot massages :). But damn, it's not even that cheap here. I suppose if you're from some cold scandinavian country and not a poor brownie like me... maybe that's why when I sat down at the computer this morning the white girl pulled her bag closer to her.

Update: I thought it was pretty safe around here, it not being nearly as crowded as some places I'd been in in the Philippines, but now I'm just listening to this Chinese woman asking for her passport from the hotel reception, because she was just robbed and the police need to see some identification. Apparently sometime earlier another couple were also robbed. Man... maybe I'm just lucky these days, or at least I hope so, shit how many times can I have had my camera stolen if it weren't the case *knock on wood*? I suppose it's like in Romania, there weren't so many people there... goddamn it, means I'll have to go back there if ever I want those photos. I think I will return to Hungary some day, but definitely not to Romania...