Notebook Stories

The plane was not enough, my figures stood up for a while. I had a small army of puppets, each one hundred and fifty centimeters tall. My curvy characters were staring at me. Shadows cast on the floor. The shadows hid different stories from the obvious; I heard. My figures rising from the ground were in my hand one by one. They got smaller, they multiplied among the files. More like shadow heroes. I pour my file in front of me, everything happens at that moment. Dozens of figures that are not related to each other at that moment,  making up stories; I hear. Whether in the game or in the war... the one who greets, the one who does not salute, the one who speaks to the angels, the one who plays cards, the one who looks at the sea with a rope around his neck, the one who swings a fishing line at the sea without fish, the peacocks, the Mozambican cheetahs... what people have created, destroyed, jinn ideas... All there, in the ever-changing scenes; I see. I capture what I see and hear in my notebooks. Sometimes with short stories, sometimes with silent shadows.

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