I have to say that the last interviews weren’t as good as they seemed to be. When I started them, in the De Bar em Bar, interviewing Brazilian authors and editors, the dangers were much more for the interviewees than for the interviewer.

Lately, I have noticed that I have been exposing myself to danger much more than in the past.

The interview with Kim Newman gave me some scratches and hematomas. With Jean-Claude Dunyach I got cut with glass pieces, twisted my ankle and for very little didn’t fall into a pneumonia. But the interview with Libby Ginway actually put me on target of allucinated soldiers.

Invading a military base in any country is a profound action of disrespect to life. Your own life. Even of it’s done for reasonable motives. The shots that destroyed the boxes that so weakly protected me were not innoxious. Two of them hit me, even if by graze. One in the right shoulder, the other in my left forearm. They could have been fatal if I wasn’t fast in pushing the button of my quantum watch.

The Insurance company that used to protect me cancelled the contract. Now you’re on your own, they said. All right. I’ll insist some more times. If the degree of danger increases I will consider the possibility of giving up these adventures. My life is too valuable to be risked like that, irresponsibily.

The quantum watch must be quite valuable in the black market.

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