terça-feira, 27 de julho de 2010


"They entered the restaurant..., They entered the restaurant..., They entered the restaurant..." He was trying to go beyond that phrase but then suddenly he stopped writing. He lighted another cigarette. His old house was in total stillness. He looked at his computer and thought why he was writing this story about a dinner he had in his blog. Why in his blog? Everybody will see it, everybody will know about the intimacy of that dinner. He felt he was selling his memories for free to the world. Not only his memories but the memories of the person that was with him on that dinner. Was that fair? Should he ask permission to the other person to write this for the world in a random way to see? Should he stop to write while e has time? He stopped writing. But he wanted to finish this task, he wanted to finish something. He has to write this story.
He rewrite the same sentence.

They entered the restaurant. It was a small and cosy place. They seated in a table for tow.

They ordered red wine...

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