Frio, demasiado frio. Não tanto como imaginava, mas mais do que as minhas mãos esperavam; da mesma forma que estas estradas não nos esperavam tão cedo – os pneus vão afastando o gelo do asfalto e só umas boas horas mais tarde somos recebidos. Por família. há sempre um familiar mais ou menos distante que decidiu partir e manter-se afastado da espuma das ondas de onde partimos. A Bela e o Tomas – os olhos de um são o sorriso do outro e o riso do outro é sempre o olhar de um só. Entre cordas de guitarras com a idade da minha avó e saudade mais antiga que o sol, o dia tornou-se noite e com ela o sono encheu o peito e veio bater à nossa porta – deixamo-lo na soleira. Mas aqui, as noites parecem-me mais curtas – e o tempo mal me chega para me aperceber que estamos a dormir. Em menos de trinta minutos já vimos o suficiente: a Bastilha, uma ambulância que se esqueceu da nossa presença, os olhos estranhos de quem conhece outro passado… Chegámos à rua Victor Massé… meu deus… entrando pelo sul, à direita há 12 lojas de guitarras, à esquerda outras 11… os meus olhos são peculiares devotos dessas fêmeas de 6 cordas… Je suis enchantee de faire votre connaissance … O Pop In parece à primeira vista um simples Pub, mas em breve adivinhamos duas, três, cinco salas contíguas, que vão do piano de 1950 a um canto onde acabámos a noite até ao centro do placo onde se deu o seu início… Pouco antes do concerto a neve começou a rondar as ruas em forma de tempestade. Sussurrámos ao ouvido do lobo e ele foi lá fora dançar…foi assim que ele se apresentou pela primeira vez fora de portas – e as pessoas que vieram emprestar o seu coração ao lobo não souberam senão retribuir-lhe com doçura. Quando terminámos as festividades a tempestade ainda não conhecia o final do vento. Guardámos os instrumentos, calçámos as luvas e abrimos caminho através da neve. (à entrada do Hotel guardei uma ultima imagem de Paris dentro do meu coração. Daquelas que tão cedo o tempo não me vai levar)
Joao Rui
White Nights (Paris) - Cold, too cold. Not so much as I imagined, but more than my hands were waiting for; just as these roads weren’t expecting us so soon - the tires move the ice away from the asphalt and only a few good hours later we are at last, received. By family; there is always a more or less distant member of the family that and decided to leave and stay away from the foam of the waves from where we hail. Bela and Thomas - the eyes of one are the other’s laughter and the smile of the other is always the look of one. Among guitar strings with the age of my grandmother and a longing that is older than the sun, the day became night and with it the sleep filled his chest and came knocking on our door – we left him on the doorstep. But here the nights seem shorter to me - and I hardly have the time to realize that we are sleeping. In less than thirty minutes have seen enough: the Bastille, an ambulance that seemed to have forgotten of our presence, the strange eyes for whom the past was another... We reached the street Victor Masse ... my god ... coming from the south, on the right there are 12 stores guitars, to the left 11 other ... my eyes are peculiar devotees of these female 6-string... Je suis enchantee de faire votre connaissance …. At first sight the Pop In seems like a simple pub, but soon we find two, three, five adjoining rooms, that go from the 1950’s piano in a corner where we ended the night, to the center of the stage where it began... Shortly before the concert the snow began to prowl the streets in a storm. We whispered to the wolf’s ear and he went outside to dance ... that's how he performed for the first time out of doors - and the people who came to lend their hearts to the wolf did but to return with sweetness. When we concluded the festivities the storm had not been able to find the end of the wind. We stored our instruments, put on our gloves and opened our path through the snow. (at the entrance of the hotel I kept one last image of Paris in my heart. One of those that time will not take me from me so soon). Joao Rui
White Nights (Paris) - Cold, too cold. Not so much as I imagined, but more than my hands were waiting for; just as these roads weren’t expecting us so soon - the tires move the ice away from the asphalt and only a few good hours later we are at last, received. By family; there is always a more or less distant member of the family that and decided to leave and stay away from the foam of the waves from where we hail. Bela and Thomas - the eyes of one are the other’s laughter and the smile of the other is always the look of one. Among guitar strings with the age of my grandmother and a longing that is older than the sun, the day became night and with it the sleep filled his chest and came knocking on our door – we left him on the doorstep. But here the nights seem shorter to me - and I hardly have the time to realize that we are sleeping. In less than thirty minutes have seen enough: the Bastille, an ambulance that seemed to have forgotten of our presence, the strange eyes for whom the past was another... We reached the street Victor Masse ... my god ... coming from the south, on the right there are 12 stores guitars, to the left 11 other ... my eyes are peculiar devotees of these female 6-string... Je suis enchantee de faire votre connaissance …. At first sight the Pop In seems like a simple pub, but soon we find two, three, five adjoining rooms, that go from the 1950’s piano in a corner where we ended the night, to the center of the stage where it began... Shortly before the concert the snow began to prowl the streets in a storm. We whispered to the wolf’s ear and he went outside to dance ... that's how he performed for the first time out of doors - and the people who came to lend their hearts to the wolf did but to return with sweetness. When we concluded the festivities the storm had not been able to find the end of the wind. We stored our instruments, put on our gloves and opened our path through the snow. (at the entrance of the hotel I kept one last image of Paris in my heart. One of those that time will not take me from me so soon). Joao Rui
