Armado de profundo amor e sentimentos protectores. Inundado de adrenalina e rigorosa loucura da paixão. Vou salvar-te de um filme demasiado longo, de um romance vilipendioso, ou de uma qualquer vulgar pistola erguendo um ladrão.
Vou ser o teu herói, vou correr pela tua admiração, vou crescer no teu olhar. E sonhar. Sonhar que é verdade. Que o cavalo branco estará ensinado, a espada polida. E que tudo isso serei eu. E que tudo isso será suficiente. E que tu me sentirás teu príncipe numa tarde de sol, num dragão morto, numa página virada, numa frase “e viveram felizes para sempre”.
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Nicole: Daddy, can I talk to you about something?
Andre: Of course. You can talk to me about anything.
Nicole: Anything?
Andre: Anything at all. What is it? Tell me.
Nicole: Promise not to yell.
Andre: I promise. Now tell me.
Nicole: It's really not that bad.
Andre: Tell me.
Nicole: You said you wouldn't yell.
Andre: That was not yelling, trust me.
Nicole: I told Ben you weren't my father.
Andre: Why?
Nicole: Because I wanted to impress him.
Andre: What did you tell him I was? A famous pianist? A writer? What?
Nicole: [she takes a deep breath] I told him you were my lover.
Andre: Are you serious?
Nicole: Yes.
Andre: Are you out of your mind? What the hell were you thinking about?
Nicole: You're yelling.
Andre: Of course I'm yelling! My daughter tells some stranger that her father is her, her...
Nicole: *Lover*!
Andre: Oh, God! I hate that word. It's so... so graphic.
O Beijo, Rodin
« L'amour, c'est ce qui se passe entre deux personnes qui s'aiment. » ............................................................................Marcel PROUST
Sobre mim
My Father the Hero, 1994
Nicole: Daddy, can I talk to you about something?
Andre: Of course. You can talk to me about anything.
Nicole: Anything?
Andre: Anything at all. What is it? Tell me.
Nicole: Promise not to yell.
Andre: I promise. Now tell me.
Nicole: It's really not that bad.
Andre: Tell me.
Nicole: You said you wouldn't yell.
Andre: That was not yelling, trust me.
Nicole: I told Ben you weren't my father.
Andre: Why?
Nicole: Because I wanted to impress him.
Andre: What did you tell him I was? A famous pianist? A writer? What?
Nicole: [she takes a deep breath] I told him you were my lover.
Andre: Are you serious?
Nicole: Yes.
Andre: Are you out of your mind? What the hell were you thinking about?
Nicole: You're yelling.
Andre: Of course I'm yelling! My daughter tells some stranger that her father is her, her...
Nicole: *Lover*!
Andre: Oh, God! I hate that word. It's so... so graphic.
O Beijo, Rodin
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