Chamber of discontent

Her

fingers pressed against

archeologia ad usum

Boys playing

scandalized literature

scratching Orpheu

Annoyed and desperate

she sings a song

a love one

Boys smoke a cigarette

a soft and

Portuguese one

She waits (with fatigue)

enchanted by the view, the odor

exhaling from Watermark

While boys dance

traveling all the way in and out

Tralfamadore

Universe

is a chamber of

discontent!

If only

a house on the sand

could suffice us ...