street action #3
Sunday, 11am.
I'm writing this notes sitting in a red sofa in the middle of the street, in Praça da Figueira. I am here to present my Trajectos, my diary of the last 3 weeks. No one comes by. Some people look at me, some of them just slow down to watch, some smile, some others don't show any reaction. I took my sandals off, bare feet on the red sofa as I was at home. The couch is comfortable and I feel tired today. Yesterday I was thinking about about the way of presenting the project in this situation. I decided just to be there, to inhabit the space, see what is going to happen. I know I don't want it to be a public presentation, it can be almost private, personalized, so it will depend on the person who's going to seat on the sofa, if any of them dare to do it. In the meanwhile I try to feel at home and try to act as natural as possible. How can we make that? How to find that feeling. I read a few lines about multiculturalism in Toronto of the book 'The global soul'. Now I just became a touristic atraction, a group of japanese people take my picture. I don't look at them, I just keep reading my book. Because I am on the street, exposed, a natural action of my daily life like to be sitting on a couch reading a book, become performance or at least it is noticed as something unusual. It gives a strangeness to city life quotidian. A women stops now in front of me. She looks straight on me, I look back at her and smile, but she doesn't smile back, she just goes away. Right after that, a man comes by, maybe he is from Timor, I'm not sure, he calls me 'menina' (like 'miss'), he reads the title of the project and he asks me 'what is this?' I invite him to sit down and he does. I told him about my Trajectos, my walks downtown, I show him a few photos. He tries to find his glasses and says maybe he lost them, but without them he can't read the text. He says 'a menina é muito criativa' (you're very creative miss). I ask him if he lives 'here' (I mean downtown) and he answer 'after 34 years of London, I'm living here for about a year'. I tell him I'm going to London next week and he smiles and wish me good luck. He keeps on seeing the photos and once in a while he reads bits of my text in loud voice. But his bus arrives and he runs saying 'we'll talk more next time!' The sky is getting really clouded. It might rain. A lady wants to know what is this, I explain and more 2 persons stop briefly. I ask the lady to sit down but she says she has no time ('tenho hora marcada', she says). I tell her about the festival, she says she already has a concert this afternoon, otherwise she would go to the shows latter, she's happy about people doing this kind of things because 'I live in downtown for 71 years'
Noon.
An indian boy (or from Pakistan?) comes closer to ask me what am I doing here. I tell him I am presenting my work, he repeats 'ah, work...' I explain it is a diary of my walks downtown and I ask him if he wants to see the pictures. He smiles and says 'thanks' and leaves. Two older ladies ask me 'what is this'. I invite them to seat down, but one says 'temos de ir ali' (we have to go there) and they start talking between them ignoring me. A guy passes by looking at my bare foot, he smiles at me, I smile back, but he doesn't slow down his walk and I don't stop writing. I feel like talk with someone. I send a few sms to friends, some of them don't know nothing about my project, I wrote: 'I'm in Praça da Figueira, by the statue, in a red sofa. Come over! I'll be here until 4-if it doesn't rain'. I also need to go to the bathroom. If I see someone looking nice I'll ask him/her to stay in my place for a bit.
12.20. An African guy comes from the side and he leaves a bird feather on the little table next to me. I say 'Hi' and he smiles, 'is that a present?' I say, he says 'yes'. I tell him about the project and invite him to have a sit. I start showing the pictures and explaining what I did each day, which was my way, my focus, the things I found, the little games I did, I tell him about the bus-stop, the walking with flowers. He's following with a silent enthusiasm, smiling all the time, laughing in certain situations. I tell him lots of little stories. After a while he says: 'what a true happiness! It seems I'm out of reality' and he keeps smiling. I get surprised and ask him to repeat because I wasn't sure, he talks very smoothly. He repeats the same sentence without saying anything else. I don't know if he's talking about my vivid enthusiasm or about something he's felling himself. I try to make conversation, asking him questions like where does he live, what does he do, if he works today, that kind of stuff, but his answers are truly minimal like 'there', 'maybe' or simply he doesn't answer verbally, just silence and smiles. I tell him about the mobile narratives project in Philadelphia and show him the book. I tell him about the light in Finland and Time Square in New York. He says he lived here all his life. Then he reads in silence. I stop talking and I read my book as well. For awhile that silence feels good, comfortable enough, funny even. Once in a while he looks at me and smiles again. Sometimes he looks at people passing by attentively and when they look at us he laughs. It seems he's liking to be there in that unusual situation with a stranger. I have the feeling he's in some sort of extase, maybe he's falling in love with me... I try again a few more questions with just smiles as answers. I really need to go to the bathroom and ask him if he's planning to stay a little bit longer, he says yes. So I tell him I have to go and if he can stay there until I come back. He says ok, I go. On the way I buy two cakes. When I'm back I ask him what was he reading and he says he wasn't reading because he was waiting for me. We make a little picnic with the cakes and he laughs a lot. I try again to make conversation but I'm not successful. I start to feel a bit nervous with the situation. When I ask him where was he going when he stopped, he says: 'I was coming to meet you'. Well... it starting to rain now. He has the book opened but he doesn't read anymore. I feel him nervous, his breath is out of pace. I ask him again what is his work, and after awhile of silence he says the word 'stealing'. I don't understand immediately, I had forgotten my answer, I ask again, but he answers '26', I think he was saying his age. I called the production to pick up the couch and umbrellas because of the rain. The rain stops after awhile, they are on their way with the car and I start packing and close the umbrellas. By then I feel quite uncomfortable. He's there for almost 2 hours. I seat again waiting for the car, he doesn't but he doesn't leave, he walks slowly making circles around the couch until I leave.
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