Lobo Antunes

Their words and their phrases, sometimes repeated up to sacrilege, to nausea, are deducted his unfathomable desires and their insurmountable urgencies. The soul trapped by herrumbrosos links of concern sprouts with the barely audible voice in the silent wasteland of reading. Angola arises frequently in several of his creations, as an act of confession in all their lustful malevolence. The Lusitanian invader shows his Fuzzy face when you remember it in good evening to the things down here and the ass of the world. He does not forget that it was invasive, that lived the war and it allocated some percentage of their creative energies to cause the death of starving warriors without a shadow, just men in a land of Palm trees and mountains, jungles and diamonds, mystery and superstition. Africa is the recurring nightmare, the dark passage of confusion by where his spirit has due travel to model his art for the work of Lobo Antunes. However, also stops less scabrous as they are the neighborhood where he lived during his childhood, Benfica and Lisbon, the Portuguese capital, where has been situations certain amount of catharsis in the exercise of the medical profession.

Of the latter does not hide that his work has had origin in the terrifying vision of a child’s foot under a headstone sheet, under a funeral canvas. A creature died due to leukemia inoculated his last vital breath into the creative vein of the great Portuguese author. Immediately the maremagnum and the mottled interrelation of a metropolis and then the domestic atmosphere with the harshness of the debauchery of nuclei formed by the dissolution and the Evanescence in an eclosion of darkness. Novels such as exhortation to crocodiles, what I’ll do when everything Burns, don’t go so fast on that dark night and other unique grandeur, complement the catalogue of Lobo Antunes whose literary gestation period surprises by its brevity. Lobo Antunes is not easy to author and not intended to be so. The unwary reader will soon be immersed in an intricate labyrinth where cannot escape if not docked and imposes a redoubled attention to text in their eyes drawn facts, things, people, places with the meticulous talkativeness of the schizoid crisis and the paroxysm of a language devoted to the construction of gigantic verbal skyscrapers. Permanent candidate for the Nobel in literature we can almost predict that soon, laurel will Crown the temples of this brilliant and enigmatic writer. Increasingly, try to flee from the tendency to fill all words I seek the silence inside the book, I want that every reader could write his own book when I read ANTONIO LOBO ANTUNES original author and source of the article.