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Hello!
Sound. Test. One, two.
Once I found a joint on the floor in this street.
It was good.
Ok, there we go. It’s recording right?
There. I wanted to tell an ongoing story about this street, it just happened…
Louder? Ok.
I wanted to tell a story about this street, I just watched it happen.
In this street there’s a crippled man.
Well, I don’t know if he’s crippled, but he moves around in a scooter with four wheels
and, like, it's as if he’s paralytic at least. As if he can’t move his legs.
And every time we cross he does two things.
The first is ask for the time. The second is to bum a cigarette.
Furthermore, a minister lives on this street.
I don’t know what he’s a minister of, but he’s a minister of something.
And because a minister lives here, there’s always a policeman there.
And this gentleman who wants the time and a cigarette every time he sees me
basically has another ritual which is to tell that policeman to go *** himself.
In the sense that he tries to pick a fight with him, starts arguing,
all very casually, and at some point he’s telling the policeman to go *** himself.
And the policeman doesn’t know exactly what to do about it because the man is disabled.
And that’s the story.
I guess the man lives nearby.
This is a one-way street, that is, cars only come this way.
Cars go by, the tram goes by, and opposite our door there’s a nursery school,
and I started to wonder about how the children’s parents manage to pick them up or drop them,
because there are cars parked along the sidewalk, the road is very narrow.
I found all of it slightly odd.
So I started to notice this movement of children coming in and out,
because you can barely notice there's a school there.
And what ends up happening is this very beautiful flow,
because on this street it is impossible to stop.
You always have to go on.
And the school is a part of that.
Battery’s dead?
Ready? No, it’s alright.
Do the clap.
Hello.
As a matter of fact I came here to say a couple of things,
but I’m really on my way and I actually have to leave right now.
But yes, my idea was really to say something about the Dog, and the space outside,
but I’m in a bit of a hurry,
Hurry, Beni! so I just came to say hello.
See you.
The clap! Don’t forget the clap!
Son of a ***...
He’s so post-post-post-contemporary right?
Is everybody leaving? We should write the post rap.
In which we’re post, post modern.
It goes: post post, puh post post, puh post post.
Modern.
So.
This one time I got here, I was late for something
and there was a lady on the other side of the street with some very large, heavy boxes,
so I ended up helping her carry the boxes into her flat,
and then I discovered that that lady was Joana’s grandmother.
Joana Dilão’s. Very amusing.
That’s it, that’s my story.
Bye Sara. Bye.
Right!
I’m gonna tell my love story.
One day Clara said
DAYUM, LOOK, IT’S LUÍS’S HOT FRIEND!
That’s how it started. Look, it’s Luís’s hot friend.
And when I turned my head she was gone, I only saw a sliver of orangeish hair.
But the idea of Luís’s hot friend got stuck in my head, who the hell was Luís’s hot friend.
Because I wanted to meet Luís’s hot friend.
It happened on this street. I first saw Luís's hot friend here.
And then once, downtown, Luís’s hot friend, I, um, I said I wanted to go to Rainbow,
if she needed a lift to Rainbow... (mumbles unintelligibly)
(...)
I know this space, the Rua do Poço dos Negros, solely as a place of work.
I spent six months here, every day, so that's how I see it.
And we still linger around here.
I’ve been doing some research.
Historically, this street is called Poço dos Negros because
the 14th king of Portugal wrote a letter to Lisbon
and he ordered the construction of a well.
as he thought, because of the diseases that negroes might possibly carry,
a pit should be built to bury them.
Nowadays I’d say all of that is over, isn’t it?
It doesn’t exist. That pit no longer exists,
and in this workplace and on these streets there’s lots of movement,
there’s people going by, there are tourists, and there’s a great energy.
I rarely walk past during the day, usually I come during the night.
There’s lots of stories. There’s one Paula told one day.
Right opposite our door there’s a greengrocer,
and the lady that runs it went on a trip with somebody else.
Cheated on her husband, went traveling. And on that day, while Paula told that story,
the lady was outside, mopping the floor in front of the shop window,
It was funny, I found that moment highly performative.
I’ve known this space for nearly ten years,
and I've had many happy moments here.
I remember this time when Ben suddenly said “Let’s go, we’ll catch the tram!”
and it was the first time, after being here for ten years,
that I held on to the tram and went up the hill riding on the outside.
It was my first experience.
I always have a ticket, and they’re always pestering me, “Why do you pay for tickets?”
And I say, I buy tickets because I like to pay for my ticket.
And the first time I did something illeg… that I shouldn’t have done was here.
On this place. This place is very prone to things like that.
It’s quite funny.
And around here there’s lots of cafés, and we eat croissants.
There’s a very pricey café here.
Isn’t there? I think so.
Nita’s! Nita’s. She’s very expensive, Nita.
And there’s another restaurant where they don’t have vegetarian food.
And so I don’t go there.
I don’t have a home. I’m living at my mother-in-law’s.
And the only keys that I have sometimes, but not always, are these.
The keys to the Dog.
So, for lack of a house, there’s the office.