Because it’s such a pretty song. I wasn’t thinking about what it meant.
But he beat me so much, Portuga. But it’s OK,” I sniffled.
“I’m going to kill him.” “What’s this, child? You’re going to kill your father?”
“Yep. I’ve already started. Killing him doesn’t mean grabbing Buck Jones’s revolver and bang! That’s not it.
You can kill someone in your heart. Stop loving them. And one day they die.”
“What an imagination you have,he said, unable to hide the emotion that had taken hold of him.
“But didn’t you say you were going to kill me, too?he went on.
That was in the beginning. But then I killed you back to front.
I made you die and then you came to life in my heart. You’re the only person I like, Portuga.
The only friend I have. It’s not because you give me trading cards, sodas, sweets and marbles... I swear it’s true.”
“But everyone loves you. Your mother, even your father. Your sister Glória, King Luís...
And have you forgotten your little orange tree? Pinkie... What is it you call him?”
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