The Weight of Low Expectations
On how we accept the unfair labels imposed on us and how this can limit our lives
During my college years, I once met a young man named Pedro by chance. He was slender and small yet had a beauty compacted into his miniature frame.
He was blonde, with golden hair unusual in Portugal, fair-skinned, and blue-eyed. But beyond his physical distinctiveness, what truly caught my attention was his apparent intellect; even before Lola nudged me to notice him, I was already observing him.
We had seen him leaving the auditorium, a place tucked away between the college’s large bar and the strange wooden arcades leading to the even more secluded library.
Only those interested in attending lectures or, by chance, taking a class there would know about the auditorium, often missing the first few sessions because they couldn’t find it.
Our presence at nine pm on a weekday evening was a bizarre coincidence. It happened simply because we had both spotted a small poster taped to a brick pillar announcing a screening of a classic film in the auditorium: “Come watch Once Upon a Time in America.”
The small announcement made me very happy because it represented a well-known place, not the film itself, but the idea of a film club — an…
