“I know I woke up and still I sleep. My old body, worn from living, tells me it's still too early... I feel feverish from afar. I weigh on myself for reasons I don't understand...”

“Well,” said the young man. “Well, here we are,” he reaffirmed. “Yes, here we are,” she confirmed – aren’t we? “Well, yes, we are,” he said. “Yeees! We are.” “Good,” she said. “Good!” he confirmed. “Good!”

“At times, this narrow room is but a haze of mist, on the horizon of this diverse land... And there are moments when the ground we tread here is this visible chamber...”

“Despicable and harmful during the day, the tavern is squalid, sinister, criminal, and atrocious during the night: the slaves, who then gather there, get drunk and beat each other. (...) Inspired by hatred, horror, and the inseparable sufferings of slavery, they express themselves in terrible slander (...) recounting grim stories of exaggerated punishments and cruel revenge, whose ideas they become accustomed to (...).”

MACEDO, Joaquim Manuel de