There is a language in the surface
That seduces me, that intrigues me, capturing me 
In each seemingly clandestine event.
There is a conveyance of fear
Unrelated to the revolt of the senses
Caught in the paths
Condemning them to the abysses
Open in ghost towns.
There is a whisper of appeals
A revolt that does not harm the aggressor.
They say that it is possible
Re-establish the common surface,
Access to the sea, the lost taste of fish
The forest, the humus.
There is a language that dominates the keyboards,
For the rapid return to flag service
Leading to the return:
The belief of the novel, the resumption of the 
Power of dreams, the surprise of heavenly bodies,
The sound of mathematical ideas
That reveal the expansion of man as a being
Not a electronic number
Encoded and handcuffed
There is a belief in man
The secret religion of their existence

Luís Filipe Sarmento, Capture Effects, 2015

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Foto: José Lorvão