Paulo Seabra

Excerpts from Nostos 286. THE PARABLE OF THE TAX COLLECTOR He that hath ears to hear, let him hear. There was once an honest man who lived alone. He grew his own food by working hard under the sun with his own two hands until they bled. For drink, he traveled to the nearby river and drew fresh water from the stream. For warmth, he chopped down trees and lit them ablaze against the cold. And at night he guarded himself, his house and his work from the howling wolves that came from the forest, under the cold cover of darkness. Verily, his life was tough, but it was all his. He did not think of what was good or bad, he just accepted things as they were. It is what it is, he'd always think to himself, as if it was a new truth each time. But one day a wandering traveler came walking in the distance. The honest man watched carefully, and waited. The wandering traveler approached with a smile, as they often do, gave a courteous bow and began his memorized speech. – Sweet friend, we have ...

Excerpts from Nostos 260. SNAIL IN A BOX I saw a snail crawl inside a black box. The snail was a perfectly unique creature, perhaps the only one in existence with the same exact shape on its shell, which was lighter around its outer edge, with flowing streams of multiple colors, and it became distinctly darker and darker as the lines spiraled towards the center. Admiring the creature, I would follow its lines as if hypnotized, being led to an infinite point that only became more distant and more impossible. The horizon simultaneously became where I looked at and where I was. And the creature crawled along the surface, the ceiling, and the four walls of the black box, into which no light entered, though I could still see the snail's shell, its almost white, repulsive body, and its wandering bulging eyes. And though I followed the creature, as it was all that was visible inside that black box, I would also lose myself in the spiral of its shell and I'd forget on which side of t...

Excerpts from Nostos 265. ONEIRONAUTIKÓS #8 I was seating at a round table covered by a silky white cloth. The mood was dimmed with otherwise bright pink and orange lights, moving and glowing and blinking for all the dancers. To my left were my friends, to my right was her, and in front of us were her friends, sitting on the neighboring table, only a little more than an arm's length away. Suddenly, I looked to my left and the seats were empty. My friends had wandered off, mingling, joining with the rest of the party. I glanced at her and looked away. She would only look down at the tablecloth, fiddling with it. After a bored sigh it crossed her mind to end the eternity of that awkward silence. – Have you met my sister? Her voice was calm, cool and collected. I glanced at the other table. Four girls, all friends of hers, were sat in a row, throwing a string of teasing smiles at me. The fourth girl was exactly like the girl sitting next to me, indeed, they are twins. I looked at all...