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José Eduardo Agualusa | |||||||||||||||
“Old Caxombo dreamt of the sea” On the last afternoon of his life, when, after his customary lunch of fungi and quizaca, he stretched out on the straw mat to enjoy a siesta, old Caxombo dreamt of the sea. (...) The sun was slowly sinking when, with growing anguish, he realised that something was wrong and he didn’t know what it was. He suddenly understood: the silence filled everything. A silence as thick as a moonless night. There were no birds. All the birds had gone away.(...). So Caxombo curled up like a woodlouse, and, burying his head in his hands, he closed his eyes. ‘I’m dreaming,’ he groaned, ‘I’m clearly dreaming.’ from D. Nicolau Água-Rosada e outras estórias verdadeiras e inverosímeis [Dom Nicolau Água-Rosada and other true and unlikely stories] |
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b. 1960 Angola | |||||||||||||||
© Instituto Camões, 2007 | |||||||||||||||