palavras...
ecoam na minha mente, palavras.
palavras, que nunca serão pronunciadas.
palavras que serão perdidas.
mas para sempre relembradas.
palavras...

" acordou a meio da noite coberto de suor e lágrimas, e com a sensação que algo de terrivelmente mal se passava. sentou-se na cama respirou fundo, mas o ar simplesmente não passava. sentia a garganta inchada, bloqueada, selectiva ao ar que passava, como se fosse um filtro que não deixava passar o oxigénio.

sentia-se angustiado. a respiração tinha acelerado com a ansiedade de respirar e começava a sentir-se tonto.

tentou deitar-se e fechar os olhos, de modo, pensava, a que aquele mau momento passasse e que conseguisse de novo voltar a respirar, a ter sonhos, a viver.

estava farto de pesadelos, de uma vida que não era vida.

ultimamente, cada vez que olhava em seu redor só via bocados de si, desfeitos, no chão, como farrapos de sombra, de passado.

tinha de se livrar daquele sentimento de fragmentação. queria sentir-se uno outra vez.

fechou os olhos e tentou adormecer, cada vez respirando mais profundamente, mais lentamente, mais espaçadamente, até que finalemnete, adormeceu..."

The Scorpion and the Frog

"One day, a scorpion looked around at the mountain where he lived and decided that he wanted a change. So he set out on a journey through the forests and hills. He climbed over rocks and under vines and kept going until he reached a river.
The river was wide and swift, and the scorpion stopped to reconsider the situation. He couldn't see any way across. So he ran upriver and then checked downriver, all the while thinking that he might have to turn back.
Suddenly, he saw a frog sitting in the rushes by the bank of the stream on the other side of the river. He decided to ask the frog for help getting across the stream.
"Hellooo Mr. Frog!" called the scorpion across the water, "Would you be so kind as to give me a ride on your back across the river?"
"Well now, Mr. Scorpion! How do I know that if I try to help you, you wont try to kill me?" asked the frog hesitantly.
"Because," the scorpion replied, "If I try to kill you, then I would die too, for you see I cannot swim!"
Now this seemed to make sense to the frog. But he asked. "What about when I get close to the bank? You could still try to kill me and get back to the shore!"
"This is true," agreed the scorpion, "But then I wouldn't be able to get to the other side of the river!"
"Alright then...how do I know you wont just wait till we get to the other side and THEN kill me?" said the frog.
"Ahh...," crooned the scorpion, "Because you see, once you've taken me to the other side of this river, I will be so grateful for your help, that it would hardly be fair to reward you with death, now would it?!"
So the frog agreed to take the scorpion across the river. He swam over to the bank and settled himself near the mud to pick up his passenger. The scorpion crawled onto the frog's back, his sharp claws prickling into the frog's soft hide, and the frog slid into the river. The muddy water swirled around them, but the frog stayed near the surface so the scorpion would not drown. He kicked strongly through the first half of the stream, his flippers paddling wildly against the current.
Halfway across the river, the frog suddenly felt a sharp sting in his back and, out of the corner of his eye, saw the scorpion remove his stinger from the frog's back. A deadening numbness began to creep into his limbs.
"You fool!" croaked the frog, "Now we shall both die! Why on earth did you do that?"
The scorpion shrugged, and did a little jig on the drownings frog's back.
"I could not help myself. It is my nature."
Then they both sank into the muddy waters of the swiftly flowing river."

POP

"hoje caminho... decidi ir onde as minhas pegadas me levam.

mas as minhas pegadas não são feitas quando ando? não são elas uma prova de que segui por ali?

sigo-as da mesma maneia. mas como?

para poder seguir algo que fiz tenho de andar às voltas.

páro. olho.

andarei eu às voltas? uma pequena e gorda pulga da areia diz que não.

então?

confusão...

fico baralhada por momentos. sento-me pa descansar.

afinal andar cansa. mesmo que seja só pa presseguir uma restia de passado.

é isso!

caminho nas minhas memórias. sigo o que já conheço, escondo-me do desconhecido.

mas aquela pedra... nunca a vi... será que estou a andar no desconhecido? mas se estou a andar nele, não se torna ele conhecido?

respiro fundo e retomo a caminhada.

ando em memórias perdidas e descubro-lhes novas realidades.

talvez a vida seja só isso. procurar em padrões conhecidos o desconhecido."

diferentes paixões

"todos temos diferentes paixões... algumas tornam-se mais em obsessões, mas não deixam de ser apaixonantes..."

"Of all the saddest words That I have ever heard
The saddest is the story
Told me by a bird
He had spent about and hour
Chatting with a flower
and here ís the tale the flower told

I'm a lonely little petunia in an onion patch, an onion patch, an onion patch
I'm a lonely little petunia in an onion patch and all I do is cry all day
Boo hoo, boo hoo
The air ís so strong it takes my breath away
I'm a lonely little petunia in an onion patch, oh won't you come and play with me

Who put me in this bed?
I'll bet his face is red
I call him down with every teardrop that I shed
If I only had him here
I'd take him by the ear
And make him share my misery

I'm a lonely little petunia in an onion patch, an onion patch, an onion patch
I'm a lonely little petunia in an onion patch
and all I do is cry all day

Boo hoo, boo hoo

The air ís so strong it takes my breath away
(Feee-you!)

I'm a lonely little petunia in an onion patch, oh won't you come and play with me

My nerves begin to crack
Each time I see a track
Made by a kitty with a stripe right down his back
If he ever stopped by me, I think I'd rather be
A dead petunia, wouldn't you?

Ooooh he ís a lonely little petunia in an onion patch, an onion patch, an onion patch
He ís a lonely little petunia in an onion patch
And all he does is cry all day

Boo hoo, boo hoo

The air ís so strong it takes my breath away.

(Feee-you!)

I'm a lonely little petunia in an onion patch, oh won't you come and play with me?"

"pa ti..."

poque não?