Yesterday I met Fernando. It was a really great and full blue sky. I met him in front of “A Brasilleira” café, nice air and atmosphere around. After met him, I started drinking Jameson whiskey one and another, all night long.
Today in the morning I have just got up really early with the same warm air like feather and a pink rose in my neck. I thought it was a nightmare. But not, I was not drinking, not me. It was Fernando Pessoa who drunk whole the barrels of Jameson whiskey and then after he got drunk, started crying just after the storm noise at night. Lisbon started droping tears as well.
I did not drink. Not me. Not me.
Not this time at least.