TRANSLATION

PAULO SANTOS | Hope II

Finally

«Further on, in the lobby of the Lisbon–Santa Apolónia train station, I pass a blind lady who, disoriented by the ongoing construction activities, asks a lively group of young people for help to reach the subway entrance. They tell her to follow the walls on the right, and she'll get there. I stop abruptly, turn back—and accompany the lady to the subway turnstiles. She thanks me—Thank you, may the Lord be with you. You're welcome, ma'am—I reply—but I believe He has more important things to do. She smiles. I leave her on her way, to find further on, this time outside the train station, another visually impaired person, an elderly gentleman looking for the stop for the 728 bus, which had been moved due to ongoing construction activities, trying to get around peculiar obstacles, several Lime and Bolt electric scooters abandoned on the sidewalk after being used by the civically exemplary green generation. I remove them from the path and accompany the gentleman to the stop. I leave him properly accompanied. The gentleman apologizes for taking my time and gently shakes my hand. I reciprocate—You're welcome, sir. Back on my way, I remain vigilantly watching the electric scooters that, in the hands of creatures screaming hysterically and howling, fanning themselves like drunken cockatoos, with headphones on their heads, swiftly and dangerously skim past children and elderly people on the sidewalks; I remain vigilant to the electric bicycles, some that don't stop at traffic lights in the lanes, and others that zigzag vertiginously on the sidewalks; I remain vigilant watching the cars that, in the city center, drive against the mandatory direction to cut corners. Civic awareness and respect for traffic rules are now blatantly nominal. Finally, I come across some people from the suburbs looking for the few traditional businesses (notions shops, hardware stores or electrical supply stores, drugstores) that still resist the avalanche of all kinds of hotels, local accommodations, and generic tourist souvenir shops. Finally, I come across people who no longer recognize the city they loved throughout their lives—until they were pushed to the suburbs by aggressive and widespread real estate speculation. Finally, I come across people who stop on the sidewalks looking around, disoriented. Dazed. After a hesitant exchange of glances, a hand that extends delicately, the usual question—Excuse me, sir, do you speak Portuguese?» 

●

Excerpt from "Por Um Pedaço de Céu Azul" (2022) by Paulo Santos