The antiquated is the transgression in raw meat, the corpus of nostalgia, what few understand with the sun of heart.

The typical conjunction of what sounds good, as well like a bird when declaiming a poem while flying to the other side of the world, but there.

Antiquated is generally misunderstood, but at the same time goes further, the transcending of the more here.

The writer understands that being antiquated is a wealth, a fortune, rather. Antiquated things are misunderstood, but tomorrow will be cool, vintage.

Shortly before the war, I was walking through Budapest, over a purple city. A friend has sent him albums from the other side of the world, Boleros and Latin things, several Jazz and soul.

He writes at night to compensate for the harmonies of a guitar eager to kiss the moon, I heard those voices full of anguish, with broken hearts by women who went from one minute to another to be demons.

Then, when he got home, he took off his antiquated clothes, a misunderstood hat that few know today, but tomorrow that will be the stereotyped accessory of the sexual symbol. Turn on the record-player, prepare a Brazilian drink and start the journey in a story, in which you will sail like a burning cruise, where all the characters would die if they stop laughing.

From the cruise, he writes:

I think you from this distance. I pray that you are well, this fire that wants to burn my heart will not do anything for our lips to postpone our meeting. I see the light of the sun and I feel your passion for the sunrise, that the sun is our intermediary, where I can feel you, I speak boldly, as when we kiss without the desire to say goodbye, and thus we face the sun. You understand, as if we had face to face.

The writer is not a concept close to the ghost, but a dilution of sublimity, the elixir of life, is a thought about the future, go forward and return as many times as you want, just as antiquated. It is a gift, which can be very privileged, but few will know that it is a power to exercise with blood and beauty.

It is something as pure as antiquated, nutritious of the family and at the same time of solitude, enrichment of a record-player and also of alcohol.

Traveling, having a dulcinea, making love from your feet to your breasts, wishing your eyes, eating your neck as if it were the sweetness of a mango. To be an antiquated lover is to generate carnal encounters identical to a dance on a love letter written by Gabriel García Márquez.

Between the sword and the wine, there is earth and fire in my broken chest. I'll look for you like a comet willing to redeem you. I go like the freshness of phrasing in a saxophonist. I go like the voice of a black tear. I go like the swing of your hips. I'm going to love you, I love you, I love you.

I am the sun and you run towards me.

me

mine

MY...