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He wrote a spy novel. She wanted to live one. They accepted the game. A game with no board, no rules, and no way out. They staged a mission. Maybe. Maybe not. What began as a game between a burned-out writer and a woman on the edge of collapse quickly spiraled-into a VHS tape, into letters, into cities, into skin, into silence. Cádiz, Tangier, Venice, Scopello: each place a trap, each letter a code, each touch a possible betrayal. Between fiction and reality, between pleasure and guilt, between farewell and return, the narrator drags himself through roads, beds, and wounds, searching for the…mehr

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Produktbeschreibung
He wrote a spy novel. She wanted to live one. They accepted the game. A game with no board, no rules, and no way out. They staged a mission. Maybe. Maybe not. What began as a game between a burned-out writer and a woman on the edge of collapse quickly spiraled-into a VHS tape, into letters, into cities, into skin, into silence. Cádiz, Tangier, Venice, Scopello: each place a trap, each letter a code, each touch a possible betrayal. Between fiction and reality, between pleasure and guilt, between farewell and return, the narrator drags himself through roads, beds, and wounds, searching for the woman who agreed to go undercover with him-and maybe never came back. Because some people run. Some stay. And some play. This book is for the last kind.
Autorenporträt
Octávio Viana was born in a place where one learns early to distrust reality-and he never unlearned it. He grew up between spy novels stolen from his grandfather's bookshelf and silences that lasted too long around the dinner table. He studied just enough to appear legitimate, and unlearned just enough to write like he's throwing up.He swore never to write third-person bios, and yet-here it is.He writes novels because he's too much of a coward to commit the crimes he imagines and too stubborn to accept the world as it's handed to him.He moves between Porto, Italy, the ruins of some past he can't quite shake, and the scent of cities he hasn't yet ruined with memory.After the "Last Disguise", he returns with the "GAME"-a narrative where love, lies, and identity crash into each other without signaling.He's not looking for loyal readers, just fleeting accomplices.And he writes with the belief that if it stings a little, maybe it's working.