And there he was, sitting on your couch, showing as a reflection of the past the trash you turned into when John told you he couldn't do it anymore.

Fox of Madness

You can't Fly ! You still a Fallen Angel !

I scanned the room, noticing several people studying or talking quietly with their friends, until someone caught my eye. He was staring at me, but looked away when I looked back. I started to notice him, his way as he read his books, his looks of boredom when reading them, but to be honest, he had nothing in common with the men I used to be interested in. Every now and then he would look at me, his expression not very easy to distinguish, and I would look at him, too, surreptitiously, over the top of my big 70s glasses.

The mistakes of a corrosive past but still alive, united in a look at the still happy present.

He was sure that he loved John and that John loved him. Until that new year...

Lêh Duarte

Entre encontros inesperados, lembranças que insistem em voltar e caminhos que parecem se cruzar por acaso, uma velha conhecida tem a tarefa de narrar aquilo que acontece entre as linhas. Mas nem toda história nasce com um destino definido. Às vezes, algumas pessoas chegam para ficar. Outras, apenas para ensinar alguma coisa antes de partir. Há encontros que parecem coincidência, sentimentos que surgem sem aviso e escolhas que podem mudar completamente o rumo de uma vida. E, enquanto as páginas avançam, uma pergunta permanece: será que somos nós que escolhemos nossos caminhos... ou alguns deles já estavam destinados a nos encontrar? Entre acasos, encontros e destinos, talvez a verdadeira história esteja justamente naquilo que nenhuma das três ainda sabe como terminar.