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Pintura na parede interior do Palácio Sottomayor
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… I ask myself and the city, every morning, when I walk on the bus, on my way to work.
It has become a sort of ritual, as I look at everyone’s faces, trying to be as discreet as possible.
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… I ask myself and the city, every morning, when I walk on the bus, on my way to work.
It has become a sort of ritual, as I look at everyone’s faces, trying to be as discreet as possible.
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Sometimes I have to wait a few stops until I get lucky and my angel makes his or her appearance. Other times he or she is just sitting there, waiting for me to tell his or her story. And, of course, there are many empty days, when no angel pops up out of the city and into the magic travelling bus.
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Are there any angels for me today? …
What defines an angel?
What particular feature makes me choose one angel instead of another, sitting right next to the first one?
I don’t really know …
I could tell you it’s just a different or a more remarkable face. I could tell you it’s because some of them are foreigners, which makes me spot them amongst others because of the unfamiliar features.
But sometimes it’s just the way someone is looking into his or her own self. Or the way they walk. Or how they’re dressed. Or because they remind me of someone. Other times it’s their whole that attracts my attention and inspires me an immediate story. It could be just a little detail. Or nothing at all.
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I have found myself wondering if I have the makings of an angel … Would someone like me, choose me from the rest of the crowd to write my story? … Or am I just the one who has some kind of special ability to find other people’s stories? …
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Are there any angels for me today? …
Was I anyone’s angel today? …
lgkçlfd
Are there any angels for me today? …
What defines an angel?
What particular feature makes me choose one angel instead of another, sitting right next to the first one?
I don’t really know …
I could tell you it’s just a different or a more remarkable face. I could tell you it’s because some of them are foreigners, which makes me spot them amongst others because of the unfamiliar features.
But sometimes it’s just the way someone is looking into his or her own self. Or the way they walk. Or how they’re dressed. Or because they remind me of someone. Other times it’s their whole that attracts my attention and inspires me an immediate story. It could be just a little detail. Or nothing at all.
lgkçlfd
I have found myself wondering if I have the makings of an angel … Would someone like me, choose me from the rest of the crowd to write my story? … Or am I just the one who has some kind of special ability to find other people’s stories? …
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Are there any angels for me today? …
Was I anyone’s angel today? …
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