Nem Tudo É o Que Parece

A Filipa Guerreiro era jornalista do jornal local de Évora e tinha um talento especial para notar o que os outros ignoravam. No seu bairro antigo, nas ruas de pedra branca da cidade, havia um homem que lhe parecia estranho. Chamava-se Senhor Esteves — pelo menos era esse o nome no caixote do correio — e parecia nunca sair de casa durante o dia.

Filipa Guerreiro was a journalist for the local newspaper in Évora and had a special talent for noticing what others ignored. In her old neighbourhood, on the white stone streets of the city, there was a man who seemed strange to her. His name was Mr Esteves — at least that was the name on the letterbox — and he seemed never to leave home during the day.

Aos vizinhos, o Senhor Esteves parecia antipático. Nunca cumprimentava ninguém, fechava a porta com força e as janelas estavam sempre com as portadas fechadas. Às crianças do bairro, parecia assustador. À Filipa, porém, parecia apenas solitário.

To the neighbours, Mr Esteves seemed unfriendly. He never greeted anyone, shut his door firmly, and the shutters were always closed. To the children of the neighbourhood, he seemed frightening. To Filipa, however, he merely seemed lonely.