Otávio: Forget about it. It’s silly. Luccino: No, no. No dream of yours is silly. Tell me about it. Otávio:Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we had a place where we could practice our classes with a bit more privacy? Luccino:It would be wonderful, but I can’t abuse the Colonel’s hospitality. Otávio:No. No, for sure. I wouldn’t feel good about it either. But I have some savings and I can rent a room outside the headquarters. I was even looking into a pension. If you don’t feel offended, I could help you rent a room beside mine.
Hey, do you know that feeling of hitching up a long skirt so you don’t fall on your face when walking upstairs, and then you immediately become a wretched yet resolute Jane Austen character? It’s a universal thing, right?
Do you ever read a novel that’s over 100 years old and get hella into it and as you’re getting into it, you can feel the ghost of the long-dead author getting excited as you get into their work, like the ghost of Jane Austen or Alexander Dumas or Mary Shelley has sat over me like “Yes child! My purpose in this universe is fulfilled, I may be gone, but my work echoes through the halls of time long after my flesh and blood death… Now cry”.