Cores de Indochina

Publicado: novembro 27, 2018 em Prosa

Livro – Book trailer




Tradução – Thiago Santos




The work was the same every single day. We carried the seeds in large wicker baskets, wore fisherman pants and traditional cone-shaped Vietnamese hats. The seeds were put on plowed, muddy soil. Our feet stood submerged in mud. During working hours there was little talk and no dispersion. Thais are very shy, very dedicated to work. There is a kind of resignation concerning them which is difficult to depict.


I arrived early at the customs post. The controllers and the police looked sleepy and had grumpy expressions. I held my passport on the right hand, on the other I carried a small suitcase with clothes and objects of primary necessity. That was all. The officers searched everything I had in my bag and then the police found my passport and other documents. — Now you pass there at the counter and pay your entry fee to Cambodia -. After that I was released without further problems. While I was walking towards the baffle gates both the police and the controllers stared at me in a not so kind way.



Now I was on Cambodian land. There occurred something that I had already seen elsewhere. People selling trinkets and passers waliking from one side to the other at any moment. An old man smoking a hand-rolled cigarette, his skeletal face and a sad look, maybe circumspect, wearing tattered clothes and a faded, dirty Panama hat. A child wallows on the ground and now she looks like a young Chinese child with powder on the face, while across the street a mother calms down her crying kid and brings a rubber sandal with an elastic strap to hold the baby’s feet.


I was paralyzed when I came across the Ankor Temples. There laid a story that I barely knew.




During a fast barge ride one could see from a distance the stone walls along the Hà Long Bay.


Translated from Portuguese into English by Thiago Santos Cardoso on July 5, 2015,




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