01 fevereiro, 2012


I’m on the living room when the phone rings. The number showing on the display is unknown, yet I decide to pick up the call. I hear a bitter and weary voice that says:

the world will end in 65 seconds.

Then the words seem to blur, to lose meaning, while I run to him, hoping he can still grasp some pieces of this strange announcement… I stop. He’s holding the hair dryer on his hand, trying to switch it off in vain. Baffled, he tries to pull the plug yet somehow it keeps on making this perpetual sound… I pass him the phone but there’s no one there anymore.
We glance at each other with startled eyes and immediately know that the time has come:

we have one more minute to live.

In a frantic attempt, we run to the window and realize there’s other people staring from their balconies, waiting for something… the skies are filled with fiery gold clouds. I cry out to him:

I’m scared.

We hold on tight and give one last desperate kiss, and for the last time I taste his lips and sense his touch…

wake up.

I open my eyes. Against the bright shutter of my bedroom I see a tiny cloud of dark dots flying above me…

Open your eyes again.