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"Once upon a time, some ten years ago, a friend of mine, noticing my love to rhyme, asked me if I would ever publish my first book, which I wrote about ten years before that conversation.
I still remember the meeting we had at the Vilaboim plaza at a happy-slash/slap-rush hour in Pacaembu, an oasis of greenish foliages.
Pacaembu is Tupi-Guarani name for a neighbourhood which makes one believe that, in spite of the grey scenario of buildings and pollution, the big city can still breathe and makes one remember that Sao Paulo was once a country site, with a countryside surrounded by Indians and a tropical forest.
We went to a small restaurant in front of a market place, just close by the University of Arts where I, five years earlier, got my diploma. In a warm sunset, when the sun touches the mosaics at the window of that building and the reflections of the mosaic makes a choreography of colours and shapes on the floor and steps of its entrance.
It is like being in a trance, when one drifts around it. I do remember quite clearly everything he said to me, though, in that bloody summer afternoon. He worked with marketing. And curiously enough, his middle name is Mark. He was holding a glass of “Ma®ker’s Mark” while he talked, stopping to sip a bit of his drink up like syrup, just once in a while, and tasting it at the tip of his salt-and-pepper tongue.
And I just smiled at him. He then started to ramble about his creative job as a marketer, while he drifted off by telling me how one can be so left out by the market.
I said no words. He replied to my numbness, reassuring me about the troubles one can get by being so old-fashioned or completely out-of-fashion at the publishing market.
My speechless synthesis maybe inspired his ever-increasing monologue, for he constantly enough exposed a little more about the metier, not the least worried if his rumbling ramble had an odd effect over his listener.
All of a sudden, he stopped for a moment, and then he cheerily re-Mark-ed, with an almost heroic “eureka” intonation:
"A book is timeless...see the Bible: It's the oldest book ever written; and yet, it is the most read from all around the globe!" And I just had to smile back to him."
(Excerpts from "The Royal Diary" by Ana C. Antunes)
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