Fiction {in Portuguese}
Is it possible [for a Brazilian] to write in Portuguese ... living abroad?
There are precedents, more or less famous, but we don’t go that far, okay? Besides being odious, comparisons never work. Each one has his own history, reasons and circumstances, affections, dislikes, meetings, misunderstandings, homesickness (saudade!) or not, missing the own people, music, language, etc. Or at least another way of longing, obviously depending on the links with all left behind.
All this may compel the person inclined towards readings and reflections to draw the boundaries that separate him from his own country, especially from the experience with the world where he lives, and as much as possible not to feel lost altogether, meaning uprooted, “disjointed, far as the devil,” so the poet Murilo [Mendes].