Actors do not often visit the offices of the production company, and this must be the first time that one of them has come to make inquiries about a letter from an admirer, even though this letter differed from the others in that, unusually, it asked not only for a photograph or an autograph but also for an address, António Claro does not know what the letter says, he assumes it merely asks for his home address. António Claro's task would be a difficult one were it not for the fortunate circumstance that he knows one of the department heads, who was at school with him and who received him with open arms and the usual words, So, what brings you here, Well, I was told that someone wrote in asking for my address, and I was just curious to read the letter, he said, Well, I don't deal with such matters myself, but I'll get someone to help you. He spoke to someone over the intercom, explained briefly what was needed, and moments later, a young woman entered, smiling, with her words already prepared, Good morning, I really enjoyed seeing you in your last film, That's very kind of you, Now what would you like to know, It's about a letter written by someone called Tertuliano Máximo Afonso, If all he wanted was a photograph, the letter won't be here, we don't keep those ones, if we did, the files would be bursting at the seams, As far as I know, he asked for my address and made some other rather interesting comment, which is what brings me here today, What did you say his name was, Tertuliano Máximo Afonso, he's a history teacher, Do you know him, Yes and no, that is, I've heard of him, How long ago was the letter written, More than two weeks and less than three, I think, but I'm not sure, Well, I'll look in the letter register first, although, to be honest, the name doesn't ring a bell, Are you in charge of the register, No, a colleague of mine is but she's on holiday, although a name like that must have caused some comment, there can't be too many Tertulianos around nowadays, No, I suppose not, Would you mind coming with me, said the woman. António Claro said good-bye to his friend and followed her, which was certainly no hardship, she had a good figure and was wearing a nice perfume. They walked through a room where several people were working, two of them smiled shyly when they saw him pass, which just goes to show, despite opinions to the contrary, which tend to be governed by ancient class prejudices, that some people do notice supporting actors. They went into an office lined with shelves, almost all of which were filled with large record books. An identical book lay open on the only table. It's like stepping back in time, said António Claro, it's like the archive in a Central Registry Office, Well, it is an archive, but only a temporary one, as soon as the book on the table is full, the oldest of the others will be thrown out, it's not like a real Registry Office, where everything is kept, the living and the dead, Compared with the other room we walked through, though, this is another world, You probably get rooms like this in even the most modern of offices, like a rusty anchor chained to the past and with no purpose in life. Antonio Claro looked at her intently and said, You know, you've come out with a number of interesting comments since we came into this room, Do you think so, Yes, I do, Perhaps it's a bit like a sparrow who suddenly starts singing like a canary, You see, another interesting idea. The woman did not respond, she turned a few pages in the book, going back three weeks, and began running through the list of names with her right index finger, one by one. The third week passed, the second too, we're on the first week, we've reached today's date, and the name of Tertuliano Máximo Afonso has still not appeared. You must have been misinformed, said the woman, no such name has been recorded, which would mean that the letter, if it was written, didn't come through here, it must have got lost en route, Oh dear, I'm putting you to an awful lot of trouble, wasting your time, but, Antonio Claro added sweetly, perhaps we could just go back another week, Of course. The woman turned more pages and sighed. The fourth week had seen a superabundance of requests for photographs, it would take a good while to get to Saturday, but let us raise our hands to heaven and give thanks to God that the requests concerning more important actors are dealt with in a department equipped with computer systems, nothing like the near-incunabular archaism of this mountain of folios reserved for the masses. It took a while for António Claro to realize that the search being carried out by this amiable woman was one he could do equally well himself and that he really should have offered to take her place, especially since the elementary nature of the facts recorded, no more than a list of names and addresses, the sort of thing anyone could find in an ordinary telephone directory, did not demand any degree of confidentiality or discretion that would require them to be kept away from the inquisitive eyes of non–staff members. The woman smiled, thanked him for his offer of help, but did not accept, she couldn't stand idly by watching him work, she said. The minutes passed, the pages passed, it was Thursday already and still no sign of Tertuliano Máximo Afonso. António Claro was beginning to feel uneasy, to curse himself for having thought of coming here, to wonder what use the wretched letter would be to him if it did turn up, and he could find no answer to justify the awkwardness of the situation, and even the tiny satisfaction his ego had come looking for, like a greedy cat, was rapidly turning into embarrassment. The woman closed the book, I'm terribly sorry, but it isn't here, And I must apologize for giving you so much work and all for nothing, The fact that you were so keen to see the letter means that it can't have been nothing, said the woman generously, I was told there was a paragraph in the letter that might interest me, What paragraph, Oh, I'm not quite sure, but I think it was about the important contribution made by supporting actors to the success of films, or something like that. The woman started, as if, inside her, a memory had shaken her, and asked, Did you say it was about supporting actors, Yes, said António Claro, not wanting to believe that some remnant of hope could yet come from that quarter, But that letter was written by a woman, By a woman, repeated António Claro, feeling his head give a sudden lurch, Yes, by a woman, And what happened to her, to the letter I mean, The first person who read it thought it was pretty eccentric and immediately rushed off to show it to the former head of the department, who, in turn, sent it up to the admin department, And then, It was never sent back, it was either locked up in a safe or put through the shredder by the managing director's secretary, But why, why, Those are two very pertinent questions, probably because of that paragraph, probably because the management did not look kindly on the possibility of a petition going around, inside and outside the company, throughout the country, demanding equality and justice for supporting actors, there would be a revolution in the industry, and imagine what would happen if the demand was taken up by the lower orders, by the supporting players in society as a whole, You mentioned a former head of the department, why former, Because, thanks to his great foresight, he was immediately promoted, So the letter disappeared, vanished, murmured António Claro glumly, The original did, yes, but I kept a copy for my own use, a duplicate, You kept a copy, echoed Antonio Claro, aware that the shudder that had just run through him had been caused not by the first word, copy, but by the sec ond, duplicate, It struck me as such an extraordinary idea that I decided to commit a minor infraction of staff regulations, And do you have that letter with you, No, I have it at home, Ah, at home, If you'd like a duplicate, I'd be more than happy to send you one, after all, the letter was intended for the actor Daniel Santa-Clara, whose legal representative you are, I really don't know how to thank you and let me just say again what a pleasure it's been to meet you and talk to you, Well, I have my moments, today you found me in a good mood, or perhaps it's because I felt as if I were a character in a book, What book, what character, Oh, it doesn't matter, let's get back to real life, and leave aside fantasies and fictions, tomorrow I'll make you a photocopy of the letter and post it to you at home, Look, I don't want to put you to any more trouble, I can always drop by, Absolutely not, imagine what people here would think if I was seen passing you a bit of paper, Would your reputation be at risk, asked António Claro, with just the hint of a mischievous smile, Worse than that, she said tartly, my job would be at risk, Forgive me, I must have seemed indiscreet, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, No, I suppose not, you merely mistook the meaning of the words, which is a common-enough occurrence, that's the purpose of the filters that get woven into us over time and through continual listening, What filters are those, They act like voice-sieves, and any words, as they pass through, leave behind them a kind of sediment, and to find out what those words actually intended to communicate, you have to analyze the sediment carefully, It seems an awfully complicated process, On the contrary, the necessary procedures happen instantaneously, like on a computer, but they never get in each other's way, there's a strict order to be followed, from start to finish, it's all a matter of training, Or a natural gift, like perfect pitch, You don't need quite that degree of accuracy, you just have to be capable of hearing the word, the acuteness lies elsewhere, but don't go thinking it's roses all the way, sometimes, and I'm speaking for myself here, I don't know how it is with other people, I get home and it feels as if my filters were all clogged up, it's just a shame that the showers we take for our outsides can't be used to clean up our insides too, You know I'm beginning to think that this sparrow isn't singing like a canary, but like a nightingale, Good heavens, there's an awful lot of sediment there, exclaimed the woman, Listen, I'd like to see you again, So I thought, my filter just told me so, Really, I'm serious, But not serious enough, Look, I don't even know your name, Why do you want to know, Don't get annoyed, it's normal for people to introduce themselves, When there's a reason, And isn't there,