"I thought of Rita, the woman whom I had so loved, and how cold it had been in our bedroom in the attic since she had left. It seemed that all my existence had been a nightmare since that day. I started to shiver. I gave myself up to these thoughts with rage and hate. The sound of a cello echoed in my spirit. We had met at a party. I, the serious “almost-archaeologist” and she, the most engaging cellist in the Conservatory. One month later, we were sharing the same roof, in an attic in the Bairro Alto. I, she and Paganini, the “invading” cat as I had called him, which appeared at the living room window one morning while she was playing a composition by the famous violinist and had decided to adopt him and give him the same name. Now I'm alone ... just me and Paganini ... and I still can not believe that Rita died ... and how many signs and forebodings has God sent me, warning me that it really was time to act, that I should consider the present moment as the most important of all, and that I should find her absence a torment for myself, as always, the hardest of all experiences..."
and btw i love your art, its so clean cut and beautifully detailed