Then I'll live peacefully in a little house on the outskirts of something, enjoying a tranquility in which I won't have to do the job that I, in any case, don't do now and looking for, continuing my doing nothing, different excuses from those with which today I avoid personal confrontation. Or I'll be a guest in some poor people's hospice, satisfied by my own complete defeat and confused amongst those human relics who thought they were brilliant and instead were only beggars loaded with dreams; I, together with the anonimous mass of those who didn't have the strength to win and neither the generous renunciation to win back-to-front. Anywhere should I be, I'll feel nostalgia for the principal, Mr. Vasques, fot this room in Rua dos Douradores. And the monotony of life for me shall be like the monotony of the loves I never had, or for the triumphs that never would've been.