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PRESENTS

IN CO-PRODUCTION WITH

A FILM BY

Under the rain and scorching sun,

a melancholic creature

treks through jungles and arid lands for months.

In the heart of the black continent,

neither beasts nor cannibals seem to frighten the intrepid explorer.

He's followed by a contingent of men carrying beads, fabrics

and modern scientific expedition tools.

The group includes in its ranks His Majesty the King of Portugal,

or at least his will, as expressed in a royal decree,

and He who is above, whom all creatures call Creator,

and whose voice lives in the Bible.

But even if his legs move forward, urged on by a superior will,

sovereign or divine,

the heart, the most insolent muscle in all anatomy,

dictates other reasons for the march.

Poor, miserable man!

This whimsical organ rules over both King and the Eternal.

So we hereby reveal the true rule of this expedition:

To roam the ends of the world,

walking away from the land where he saw

his beloved wife perish, as if he could ever stop death.

Intrepid he is, but only out of desperation.

Taciturn and melancholic,

the sad figure wanders desolately over the inhospitable plains.

And by mysteries unknown,

he is visited from afar by the one whom his heart begs for,

wearing, oh morbid detail,

the dress that hugged her when she returned to dust.

You may run as far as you can, for as long as you like,

but you will not escape your heart.

Then I will die.

You sad and poor soul.

A crocodile awaits its moment, submerged in murky waters.

The intrepid explorer is well aware

he will meet his destiny in this river.

His men witness the horror. The explorer bids farewell to life.

Night falls in the savannah, as will a thousand and one nights more.

Then and ever since,

despite how absurd this may sound to men of reason,

some swear to have witnessed this ghoulish sight:

A sad and melancholic crocodile

with a lady from days gone by,

an inseparable pair united by a mysterious pact

never broken by death.

PART ONE: A LOST PARADISE

28 DECEMBER

Let's go, Maya!

Hello.

Hi, Miss Aurora.

Yes.

Alright.

OK.

Yes, Santa?

Miss Aurora called from the casino.

She has lost everything. She has no money for the train.

Remember our conversation a few months ago?

You told me you wouldn't come back here.

My dear Pilar, this time was different to the others.

Do you have any money left, Aurora?

No, dear. All gone.

So it was the same.

No, Pilar. It was different. It was from a dream.

From a dream?

There were monkeys with very hairy arms.

They were all fighting. Lots of them.

In the kitchen, the living room, the bedroom...

All biting each other.

I even told them to get out and be friends.

But all they wanted to do was bite. What a nightmare!

I had to phone my daughter to ask her to get me a lawyer.

And then I was somewhere else!

At the house of a friend who died over ten years ago, poor thing.

We were eating toast with pumpkin jam. Delicious.

And one monkey could speak,

but sometimes the monkey was her husband.

Thinking back, her husband was a really hairy man.

When he pulled his sleeves up, you could see lots of hair.

Sometimes he was a monkey, sometimes he was the husband.

I had to phone my daughter in case she came to visit

and saw only the biting monkeys,

to stop her from thinking they had eaten me.

Then again... my daughter hardly ever visits me anyway.

She can't, poor thing.

Especially now she's in Canada.

But you know what dreams are like. We can't command them...

So the husband or the monkey

said he had made a fortune on the machines at the casino,

in the old casino, since the new one is rubbish.

The wife replied, "Lucky at gambling, unlucky in love."

And I thought she said that

because she was cheating on him.

She was dead,

so she was cheating on him with the dead.

Even with some foreign celebrities.

The husband heard this and was very sad.

I took the train with him because I felt sorry for him.

I told him there were other dedicated and honest women.

Like Our Lady.

When the ticket inspector came, the husband pretended to be a monkey

and hung from the things that people hold on to.

I had no ticket, so the inspector took me to get one,

but the ticket machine was a casino betting machine.

I felt anxious in front of it.

The collector would say a colour, I would bet the opposite and always win.

Until I thought maybe he was telling the truth.

And I had to decide

if I should bet what he said or the opposite or take the money.

I woke up before the end

and decided I had to come here to see if I was lucky.

I am such a fool. People's lives are not like dreams.

But if I hadn't come, I'd still be wondering...

Are you mad at me, Santa?

What a dismal day.

The forecast was rain.

Nonsense...

I won't eat all these prawns, Santa.

I'll be alone for dinner after all. The Polish girl isn't coming.

They're for you and Miss Aurora.

We've already had dinner.

They'll go to waste.

I've kept lots.

Thank you, Miss Pilar.

How I decided to travel the world:

I was born in York in 1632

to a good family.

After becoming a rich man, my father retired from business

and settled down in this town.

He had married my mother...

It is thought

to be a hideout of the Moors,

of the Moors and Romans.

This here was a passage

to the castle of Torres Novas.

Everything I'm telling you is not reality, but tales.

Incidentally, there is no proof.

But if remains were found, it could be true.

This way.

29 DECEMBER

Someone asked if there are bats. Sure!

We can't see them but we can check if they're here now.

For 23 years,

I performed my duty respectfully and with care.

I buried 280 corpses.

If there are any others around, I'm ready to do my job.

Man, do you talk nothing but nonsense?

The World War ll invasions

only strengthened centuries-old Catholicism.

Centuries old? Millennia, Pilar, millennial.

Rather more apostolic than Roman, if you follow...

Not really.

Look, my dear, losing your guest isn't that bad.

Damn Taizés!

All happily stuffing themselves with "nata" cakes and smoking joints

- after singing the psalms! - How silly.

Even the toughest Pole would soften

at my dearest friend Pilar's hospitality.

As for the carrot cake, it won't go to waste.

"A slice is kept for the one who will eat it."

I must admit, all this climbing has made me hungry.

Not today, I have to finish my report for the Peace and Justice Committee.

I can't focus. I'm too worried about my neighbour's crisis.

You worry about everything.

Sometimes I regret that I haven't stepped on an African mine

- just to get your attention. - You didn't even go to war.

Varices... We've lost a soldier and won an artist.

I'm glad.

And your neighbour?

It makes me sorry to see her all alone.

She must be having a breakdown.

She saw so little of her daughter at Christmas.

She was in Portugal for three or four days

and had only 15 minutes for her mother.

She left her a gift and went to meet her husband's family.

Do you find that acceptable?

You want to see me dead!

Ungrateful! You wish for my death!

- I'll kill myself right away! - Come home, madam.

Give me my pills, black woman!

None left. If you want pills, get them from your daughter.

How dare you?

You turned my daughter against me with your witchcraft!

Pilar! Open up, Pilar!

You are my only friend.

Nobody cares about me.

FOR PILAR

"My dear friend, my maid locks me in my bedroom."

"I'm sure my daughter doesn't know,"

or she would fire her and take me to the doctor's

"so I can get the sleeping pills I need."

"I fear my daughter has been poisoned"

by this devil worshipper's lies and witchcrafts,

"because she never listens to me and thinks lam mad. ".

Pilar, I need to see you urgently.

"You're the only one I can trust."

"Yours, Aurora."

Pilarita, we're very concerned.

You must be very sad, missing the little Polish nun's company.

We came to pay you a visit.

Delicious cake!

- It's the only one I can make. - Really good.

Oh, a new painting!

It's modern... and weird.

It was a gift from my painter friend.

He's a good man but this is not his best.

I thought he might come today,

and I didn't want to disappoint him if it wasn't on the wall.

But as he's not coming...

Santa, give me another slice. This will be my dinner.

You have some more, too. You won't have to worry later.

I'm fine, thank you.

- I'll do that later, Santa. - I like doing it.

Don't you think Ms Aurora has been more nervous lately?

- She complains she can't sleep. - She wakes up early.

Ms Aurora is special, and has a tendency to exaggerate.

- She has a vivid imagination. - That's true.

But I think she isn't well. We should do something.

Madam, I do as I am told.

I think she's having a breakdown.

She needs medication, not to be tagged as crazy.

Her daughter is the boss.

But her daughter doesn't care! Don't you see that, Santa?

Excuse me, madam.

I've had a wonderful idea.

You will make another cake for Santa's birthday.

Have you told Pilar, Santa?

She's having a party at mine,

and is even having a few cousins round.

That's much better.

Sometimes people give us presents that don't suit us at all.

They mean well but they just don't know our taste.

See this? A present from my daughter.

It's very soft and suits me really well.

It has this beluga print, those whales she studies in Canada.

That way, she knows I won't forget her.

PETITION FOR THE APPALLED ECONOMISTS

CAMPAIGN: HUMAN RIGHTS = LESS POVERTY

ARMS TRAFFICKING, RISE IN DEATHS

Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name,

your kingdom come, your will be done

on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread,

and forgive us the wrong we have done as we forgive those who wrong us.

Lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil.

Amen.

Lord, please watch over Ms Aurora who has been so restless.

Give her some peace.

30 DECEMBER

Santa made no mistakes in this dictation.

She has made enormous progress and is an example to us all.

I think I know why that is.

Santa told me she has been reading a book.

- Isn't that right, Santa? - Yes.

Which book?

Robinson Crusoe.

Extraordinary!

What's the book about?

This is too much work, Santa. It'll be the last time.

An old lady like me doesn't need this.

That's life, Ms Aurora.

Have you got any money for me, Santa?

No, you spent it all at the casino. You'll have to ask your daughter.

I'm going out. I won't be long.

- You're not pawning that coat, are you? - What a nerve!

Your daughter will be angry

if you come back without the coat, like last time.

Monster!

I am the prisoner of a monster!

- How is Ms Aurora? - She's lying down.

Santa, this can't go on. We'll have to call her daughter.

I need her number.

I'm not allowed to give out her number. You'll have to ask Ms Aurora.

Is this the way to treat someone?

Can't you see your mistress needs help?

Why do you have to mind other people's business?

- Who is it, Santa? - It's Ms Pilar.

Leave, Santa.

My friend, I'm so glad you're here. You won't believe what's happening.

- They want to see me dead. - Calm down, Ms Aurora.

I can't. You don't know anything.

I do, but nobody else does. I don't want to go to hell.

Pilar, I beg you to pray to Saint Anthony!

You're so kind, like no other.

He will listen to you.

I pray, but he doesn't listen to me.

- And I know why. - Ms Aurora...

You're too good to imagine other people's crimes.

Horrors I am ashamed to confess.

I know I'm paying for them.

This black woman was sent by...

because I'm his prisoner.

Santa practises witchcraft against all of us.

Against you, too, Pilar, because he's terrible.

But he has nothing against you.

Only against me. Because I have blood on my hands.

My daughter is also under his spell.

I can smell the fumes in the night, but I'm unable to get up.

I am so afraid.

Pray to St Anthony, Pilar,

for me and for my daughter.

It's all in your hands.

This isn't a matter of faith.

Modern science admits the possibility of this kind of mass phenomenon.

A group of people thinking the same thing

together, at the same time, can alter a situation.

It's parapsychological. Nothing supernatural.

Assuming somebody will be there. Lots of people are away for New Year.

Yeah, they only care about the fireworks.

Could I have the green pen, please?

Green pen, Pilar.

Geographic dispersion is the future. Small gatherings, around the globe

at the same time. It's the law of simultaneity.

Pilar, you gave me the yellow pen. I need the green one.

Silly me.

My head is in the clouds.

Problems can't be solved in the clouds.

SHAME ON THE UN

We will now proceed...

Please lower your posters for our minute of silence.

We ask you to light the candle you were given

and raise it, when you manage to light it, really high.

Pray to Saint Anthony, Pilar.

Silence!

If then you ask for miracles Death, error, all calamities,

Leprosy and demons fly, And health succeeds infirmities.

The sea obeys and fetters break, And lifeless limbs you do restore;

While treasures lost are found again, When young and old your aid implore.

All dangers vanish at your prayer, And direst need does quickly flee;

Let those who know your power proclaim, Let Paduans say: These are yours.

To Father, Son may glory be And Holy Ghost, eternally.

Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be your name.

Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.

31 DECEMBER

- Hello, Santa. - Hello, Ms Pilar.

- Well, happy birthday. - Thank you, Ms Pilar.

I made carrot cake.

Very good.

- Shit. - What is it?

That's the Portuguese lady I should have stayed with.

- Did you enjoy that? - Very much.

There'll be more next year.

- Have you got your 12 raisins ready? - I don't like raisins.

Pagan rituals. Jesus, Mary, Joseph.

Happy New Year.

Happy 2011, Pilar.

You know, I've been thinking of you.

Your company, Pilar, is the ray of light that pierces

the darkness of the hole where lives, blind,

this devoted friend of yours.

Will this beast deserve such a delicate golden thread?

No.

Don't answer.

Does the painting look good on the wall?

Very good.

- Another one? - Take it. I painted it thinking of you.

You shouldn't.

Scribbles. The hand is rough but the soul is sensitive.

1 JANUARY

My God, please forgive me for being such a fool sometimes.

I beg you to look after Santa's and Aurora's health.

Madam is not feeling well.

Oh, Pilar, you're here?

Would you like some tea?

Santa, see if we have some biscuits left.

Don't worry, Ms Aurora, I'm fine.

Oh, my friend! I should get up, but I'm so tired.

Africa is very pretty,

but at this time of year, the heat really gets to you.

- Ms Aurora, you're at the hospital. - What a nuisance!

Well, maybe I'll get my pills.

- Will you wake me if I fall asleep? - Don't worry. It won't take long.

Don't just stand there, Santa. You must check the crocodile regularly.

What crocodile?

I think you're kidding me sometimes.

How many crocodiles have we got?

Go check before the cheeky bugger hides in Mr Ventura's house again!

It's completely obsessed with him.

You should get some rest, Ms Aurora.

How can I if the darn crocodile

is always trying to get into Gian Luca's house?

What if he bites his finger off?

If then you ask for miracles Death, error, all calamities,

Leprosy and demons fly, And health succeeds infirmities.

The sea obeys and fetters break, And lifeless limbs you do restore;

While treasures lost are found again...

V...

E...

N...

T...

U...

R...

A...

- Hi, Santa. - Hi, Ms Pilar.

- Is she here? - No, visits are over for today.

- What did the doctor say? - Nothing to me.

- Her daughter? - She doesn't answer.

You must find this gentleman. Madam wants to see him.

But you must be quick. Madam is dying.

Are you a Jehovah's Witness?

- I'm Catholic. - So am I.

Can I help you?

This may sound weird,

but is there a Mr Ventura here, by any chance?

That's me.

Gian Luca Ventura?

That's the old man. He's in a home.

Is he your father?

My great-uncle. He lived here some years ago.

I need to talk to him.

Well, a friend of mine does, she's a friend of your uncle.

Come in. Make yourself at home.

The dogs are harmless. They like children.

Oops! But I am not a child.

But you're kind.

Dogs can see that, and so can I.

I didn't know the old man had any friends.

I only heard of him yesterday. I thought he didn't actually exist.

Yes, he exists. But he's gone bonkers.

RISING SUN NURSING HOME

Gian Luca Ventura.

Yes. It's me, Santa.

I'm on my way to the hospital with Mr Ventura.

Yes, I am.

I wasn't expecting it so early.

3 JANUARY

IN LOVING MEMORY OF MY MOTHER

Mr Ventura, will you join us for coffee before you go home?

She had a farm in Africa...

Pardon?

Aurora had a farm in Africa at the foothill of Mount Tabu.

She never met her mother.

She died after giving birth, lamenting the time she'd wasted

in a bedroom that was closed where she could escape the mosquitoes,

read romantic novels and heal a chronic headache.

Her dad, a man of easy wrath,

had abandoned a small industrial wool empire in Portugal

because he resented the monarchy.

He settled in Africa, where he was successful again

exporting cushions of ostrich feathers worldwide,

famous for their softness and elegance.

Had it not been for his gambling addiction,

Aurora would have inherited a fortune.

PART TWO: PARADISE

Aurora grew up, according to her social status,

with private tutors and black servants.

But her gracefulness in reciting verses

did not stop her from indulging in malicious behaviour

in which some saw devilish influences,

and others saw the whims of a spoiled childhood.

Before his apoplexy, her dad was proud of his daughter's feats,

recognising the traits of a strong temperament.

Her father's death made her more of a dreamer, and made her introspective.

Her talent for big-game hunting, for which she became famous worldwide,

was due to her father's influence.

She was a hunting consultant in the film.

It Will Never Snow Again Over Kilimanjaro,

an RKO box-office flop that caused the producer to commit suicide.

Aurora didn't care: Cinema bored her to death.

When hunting elephants, lions and leopards,

she was truly chasing her father's memory,

something she felt ever more present when running through the vast savannah.

This inflexion in Aurora's character benefited her studies.

She studied German at an Anglophone University.

She met her husband at the graduation ball.

The look of his confident posture greatly impressed her,

as well as the perfection of his waltz.

The couple set up home on the western slope of Mount Tabu.

The mythical hill was generous to all.

It offered Aurora's husband the perfect climate for his tea crops,

the academics the hope of having found the cradle of humanity,

and the natives their indispensable local myths.

The natives saw their ancestors' avenging spirits

in the haze that descended from the mountain at dusk.

None of this occupied Aurora's mind.

She loved her husband and was happy.

But her taste for adventure was merely dormant,

numbed by the extravagant presents

that enlivened her routine existence.

Allow me to skip the misadventures

that led me to leave my father's house in Genoa.

I crossed the South Pacific on a commercial vessel,

docked in exotic Far Eastern towns

and lived an infamous romance in Paris

with a Hungarian countess; Unfortunately, a married one.

I broke many hearts in my time.

That didn't benefit me nor give me any happiness.

I made easy money and spent it effortlessly.

On a bohemian night in Lisbon, I met Mario, a student priest.

An outsider like me,

he was celebrating abandoning the dioceses

due to a lack of vocation.

He spoke passionately about his roots in Africa,

where he wanted to return.

These stories inspired me, so I told my new buddy

of my firm decision to see his land.

Africa, more than its promises of exoticism and an easy life,

opened doors to a new world

free of gambling debts and troubles caused by love.

I had barely arrived when I was offered a good office job in a respectable firm,

with a schedule from nine to five.

Santos e lrmao, a small mining company,

had a good reputation for labour relations

with regards to white employees.

My lack of ambition

quickly made me the bosses' right-hand man.

Mario, also known as the Priest,

the Sheriff, the African and the Boss,

was profuse in his passions and activities.

His grandfather, the community's pioneer and spiritual leader,

had been sent there for life

when the colony was mainly a colonial prison.

Mario always wore his grandfather's crucifix around his neck,

maybe because he couldn't fulfil the old man's dream

of becoming a priest.

His vocal versatility delighted the African youngsters,

and Mario, a good cultivator of his ego, founded Mario's Band.

Women were sensitive to his charm

and my friend showed a preference for the natives.

He would father a child with one of them

and occasionally remembered to take the boy out on a Sunday.

At 15, Mario had looked death in the eye.

A tragic expedition to Mount Tabu

resulted in the deaths of several youths.

Aurora's husband's intervention saved my friend.

I'm not aware of the exact accident or how he intervened,

but I believe both men held sacred the bond that was born at that time.

He invented an impressive curriculum

and was accepted as an assistant lecturer

in the Department of Geography

of the Faculty of Humanities of Coimbra.

He never made the journey.

The maps he designed were extremely beautiful,

but later proved to be hardly scientific.

OCTOBER

Despite living next to Aurora's farm,

we only met months after my arrival.

My neighbours were looking for the small crocodile

that had escaped from the lake that Aurora had had built on her farm.

I found the animal in my garden

and spent part of that evening watching it move around in the bathtub.

Aurora was happy when she got the crocodile back.

Since her husband was away on business,

she ordered lemonade to be served outside,

following the customary prudish etiquette.

Making small talk, I asked about the animal's name.

She replied that it had no name as yet.

Aurora had many possessions,

but one was very peculiar: The house cook

who had been serving the husband's family for decades,

a sage old man with an excellent reputation for cooking.

He was also a sorcerer

and used to read the future

in the entrails of the animals he cooked.

One October day after the first rains,

he told the maids, in confidence, the words from the spirits:

That Madam was pregnant

and that her end would be bitter and lonely.

But one of the maids betrayed him

and the prophecies reached Aurora's ears.

Furious, she fired him,

claiming that she could no longer tolerate

such repugnant and heretical rituals.

Time, however, would prove the first prediction right.

Aurora was expecting,

and the husband, who hoped to have a large succession,

was happy about his first child.

He celebrated the event

and doubled the matrimonial attention.

After an initial euphoria, Aurora became more reserved

and wasn't passionate about the subject.

NOVEMBER

Her husband thought this was due to a natural fear of maternity

and some harmless light bipolarity that he had noticed in her earlier.

A rare beast, thought to be extinct,

was heard for weeks on the hills

from where came echoes of lonely and excruciating growls.

Many chased it, but Mario captured it.

Challenging the scary summit of Mount Tabu for a second time,

he made a triumphant descent with the caged beast.

A powerful Arab caliph soon bought it,

giving my friend the first instalment

of a large sum that he would never see in total.

Socialism would put an end to the caliphate.

Ignorant about the revolution and thinking he would have the money,

Mario built up debts and splashed out on various whims,

including recording a single with the band.

Today that record is a cult object amongst music lovers

for its rarity and simplicity.

DECEMBER

Around Christmas, the crocodile escaped again

and Aurora immediately knew where to find it.

We later found the crocodile hidden under a cupboard.

Since that fateful day,

Aurora secretly gave the animal a romantic name:

Dandy.

The news that Aurora had missed a shot caused quite a stir.

Her shotgun had not fired a stray bullet since her early youth.

JANUARY

It was thought that the pregnancy was linked to the incident

and that maternity had the power to sweeten her virile nature.

It would be Aurora's last hunt.

Meanwhile there were rumours of revolts and massacres

perpetrated by black people elsewhere in the colony.

Amidst the quietness of our community,

the news sounded exaggerated, even unreal.

Confirmation arrived through a military officer

carrying out government information sessions.

White folk became excited and organised militias,

night patrols and did shooting exercises

accompanied by tea and biscuits.

Indifferent to the fate of the Empire,

I saw it as another opportunity to be near her,

even if her husband's presence caused me a new and growing anxiety.

FEBRUARY

I wonder, can anyone really understand

the moment one goes from desire to love?

I believe I have already said,

my past was hardly deprived of pleasures,

especially when it came to socialising with the ladies.

Despite my fiery passions,

going from one woman to another had never bothered me,

because they all seemed extremely beautiful.

Aurora overturned my nature irreversibly.

I'm not sure when or for what obscure reason.

I couldn't ignore the fact that Aurora was carrying the child of another man,

her lawful husband,

and that being her lover meant committing a colossal foolishness

that I could only live to regret.

But in her arms,

the future seemed a vague and stupid concept.

We met in secret while the others played their wars.

The risk of being caught was high

but schemes to hide illicit affairs were nothing new for me.

The original thing here was of a different nature:

Aurora grew in me as an absolute reality.

MARCH

My growing discomfort reached its climax at a party in the pool house.

Maybe the lugubrious aura of this place reinforced my restlessness.

The parties there owed their reputation to the strange family that lived there.

The lady had run away, leaving the son and husband in charge of each other.

The son had been born with feeble nerves,

and later returned even more perturbed after a long stay in Marseille,

where he'd got involved with the underworld

and had specialised in French boxing.

In situations of panic, he would take flight into another reality

and, just like Don Quixote, he'd fight invisible enemies.

The father hid a feral despair under a polished cloak of amiability.

On New Year's Eve, after a bottle of whiskey,

he'd close the living room door, load a bullet into a gun,

raise it to his temple and challenge life.

He later died as a consequence of this.

His parties often ended with a gun salute

which scared the guests away.

Due to my forbidden love,

I had grown apart from Mario in the last few weeks.

I couldn't tell how he'd react to my secret.

Mario invoked God.

He believed divine providence had come to my aid.

He showed me a letter

from a famous singer from a British colony

who liked the band.

It was an invitation to perform at a hotel in the capital for a few months.

Two days later, I flew out there.

APRIL

"My dear lady,."

The sweet and ill-fated moments we have lived in the last few weeks

"make me fear for my future, and above all, for yours."

"The profound emotion I feel when I'm next to you

puts me in a new, frightening position."

"I can't justify my actions."

"My heart begs me not to,

but I have made a final decision."

"I shall not see you any more. I believe this is the only way

to stop this horrendous crime."

"Conveniently, fate has given the boys and me

a three-month contract to play in a famous hotel abroad."

"My dear, please think of yourself, your husband

and the child growing in your womb."

"I bid you farewell with eternal sadness."

"Yours forever,

Gian Luca Ventura."

"Dear sir,

Your fame made it easy for me to find your address."

"Your letter left me

suffering with fevers for several days."

"The nobility of your attitude

makes me love you even more, something I thought was impossible."

"That nobility is, however, my misfortune."

"I always thought I was a happy person,"

but the abundance of happiness I have found in your arms

"makes me the most doomed of women today."

"Forget me if you can, because I will always be yours."

"Aurora."

"My sweet and dear Aurora..."

MAY

it is you who must forget me because I will always be

"a despicable villain."

"I never thought, however, that in all my crookedness,

my biggest crime would be to fall in love."

"I'd be lying if I denied how much I still think of you."

"You would be scared by some of the thoughts in my mind."

"They are the result of a juvenile rapture with no chance of a future."

"I shall therefore silence myself,"

and I beg you, as I would beg to God if I believed in Him,

"to write to me no more."

"Gian Luca Ventura."

"My dear Gian Luca,

Those who claim time heals all wounds have never loved as much as I have."

"I must confess this monstrosity to you:."

Neither my husband, nor the unborn child, not even God

"bring me the slightest remorse for our moments together."

"if I curse the day I met you

it's because it was followed by the one when we separated."

"The image you keep of me hardly resembles reality."

"My biggest shame is to love one man and carry the offspring of another."

"Yours always, Aurora."

"Gian Luca,

Your lack of reply makes me think you must have forgotten me."

"You do as you must, and I wish I could say

it makes me happy."

"I have to exist

because the life I carry demands that I do."

"An innocent life, despite my misadventures."

"I bid you farewell forever, my dearest friend,"

whilst telling you that, now and forever,

if you were ever to ask me,

I would not hesitate to pull out of my chest a beating heart

"which is always yours."

"Aurora."

JUNE

JULY

In the following weeks, I left my job and avoided friends.

AUGUST

The gentle way in which Mario demanded I end the adventure was not comforting.

I knew him well enough to recognize the gravity of an ultimatum.

We hit the road.

Aurora's advanced state of pregnancy required care,

but our proximity to the border

was worth the risk of spending one night in the bush.

We stopped in an abandoned house

and we stared at the fire, trying to read in it the signs of destiny.

We were shown to a nearby village.

Aurora had entered a mute state

interrupted only by the screams of new contractions.

She went into labour immediately after Mario's death

and continued in a hut which I was forbidden to enter,

following the rules of an ancient matriarchal pact.

I hoped to wake up from that absurd nightmare.

I admit I have covered myself in dishonourable attributes.

But despite the recurring evidence of my madness,

I still kept a remnant of conscience.

Knowing my lover's life was at stake

and that our crime had forever compromised a future together,

I asked a boy to fetch Aurora's husband.

I therefore renounced our escape and was ready to confess

to being the kidnapper of his wife and Mario's killer.

Being imprisoned for the rest of my life

or ripped by the deceived husband's bullet

were cheerful prospects

compared to the despairing impasse of my situation.

The birth of a girl was announced.

The news spread fast in the village.

Aurora and her daughter,

which was surely a tender sight for others,

was almost as unbearable to me

as the sight of Mario's dead body beside me.

In sum, I awaited and yearned for the end.

Any end.

The next day,

a mysterious communiqué about Mario's death was broadcast,

which today is thought to have been a crucial trigger for the colonial war:

The freedom movement admits responsibility

for the death of this member of the colonialist militia

as an act of war.

This representative of the white occupation

was shot in quadrant 45,

Mukange,

where he was caught spying

on the strategic positions

of the African revolutionary forces for the oppressive regime.

Our popular forces will continue the struggle

for total freedom of our people and country.

SEPTEMBER

I left Africa and Aurora's life forever two days later

after receiving her final letter.

It was in India, about ten years later,

that I heard of her husband's death.

It was one of those odd twists of fate in my life,

when I'd befriended someone who also knew him.

The friend told me Aurora had returned to Lisbon,

where she was living with her daughter.

I decided to settle in Portugal, too,

and to make my address known to her.

I never got any reply

and despite my undying love, I decided not to look for her.

This is the first time I have shared these facts.

I respected her will, and destroyed her last letter.

"Gian Luca, my love,."

It's urgent that you go now

and leave behind this damned land

"and the memory of the horror you lived here."

"Nothing else ties you here."

"The woman you loved lies dead,

buried in these dispassionate hills."

"Like them, you witnessed my demise

and will say nothing."

"Because if the memory of men is limited,

the world is eternal and no one can escape."

"if we have committed crimes together,

your involvement is not comparable to mine."

"You are unwise and didn't realize"

you have spent the last months with a poor madwoman

"who can cherish the moments others will see as terrifying iniquities."

"I beg you to burn this sad letter,

the last I will ever write and to which you will not reply."

"And I ask you never to reveal in my lifetime

the monumental crimes we lived together."

"Aurora."

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