In Portuguese Namoro is the period of relative intimacy that usually preceeds the official engagement. Rather than translating it as “flirt” or similar terms it has been decided to keep the original.

With the vision of a fragmented and thoughtless “love speech” and with a sheer respect for the radical discontinuity of the language storm bursting in a lover’s mind: the story never gets the main spot. The voices of the story come and go, they disappear, overlap. Nobody knows who’s speaking: somebody speaks and that’s all. There is no more image, only language. But the other character is not a text, it is an image. The action embraces me because I’m the lover but it has no evolution at all. It could be the case of redefining a distance, because I have found my love object but I’m not part of it, no more part of it, never been part of it. The love object is a delicate and distant one, an object I like to watch, to observe, because it ravishes me.