José Saramago

Died. Yes, José Saramago just died. I know, right? Big SHOCK.

Anyway, I figured I'd spend just a little while talking about José Saramago, for the few yet adorable people who once in a while drop by and read this blog.

José Saramao was (it's so very strange to use the past tense) one of the most acclaimed portuguese authors. He was born in the country side, and while older moved to Lisbon. He worked as a translator and a journalist before he became a writer. In 1998, José Saramago was awarded with a Nobel Prize In Literature. He was a Communist and an atheist (what's not to like?).

Some of his most well-known books are Memorial do Convento (Baltasar and Blimunda - which is part of the mandatory plan of literature of the portuguese students), Ensaio Sobre a Cegueira (Essay Over Blindness - although wrongly traduced as just Blindness) and Caim (Cain - the story can be figured out by the title). He had a very curious way of writting (although I only read one of his books completely).

Let's remember him kindly and keep reading his work.

People From The Past

The other day I was coming out of the subway, on my way home, when I bumped into this guy I had a crush on when I was little. It was just one of those awkward moments. The guy used to go to my school, and he was a true asshole (the crush thing was waaaay back). He was one of these popular kids who wore huge baggy jeans and an overly big har. When I saw he looked much older and had shaved his head (it did not look sexy on him), and because I wasn't sure it was him, just stopped at the entrace (blocking everyone) for the longest five seconds in history. And the worse thing: because I was blocking the entrance (or maybe he recognised me, no idea, I have no intention of ever speaking to him again) he was staring right back at me for the whole time.
>.<'