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§ June 27th, 2023 § Filed under General § Tagged stories Comments Off on Deferred Payment
Where deferred payment the spirit peace. Clement it left the college to take a walk and to think. The afternoon findava. The sun directed it the west, with the gabardia of the fulfilled duty, after to remain itself radiating since its to appear. It made an impression to all, leaving to pass the idea that, of so strong would not esmaeceria in the end of the afternoon. But it there went to fulfill its mission of clarear the other side of the land. In the sidewalk of the opposing side to the wall of the college, Clement he walked slowly, until arriving at the other block.
Front to a bar was lingered. Men if accumulated around of overloaded tables of drink bottles, that now empty, still remained there, strategically to guide the waiters in the hour of the collection. Any one could make a mistake against the account did not use as it guides the vasilhames through which if it arrived at the final values. It had tables with only one chair. Places these busy ones for solitary, of same lost looks in itself, digging its nightmares. Alone consumed for memory of distant or recent past, bathed for drinks. They yearned for were beyond inebriantes, miraculous enzymes of the esquecimento, powerful sources of pardon, capable to erase caused or suffered hurts, that acted as a rubber erasing wrong risks of the white paper of the soul human being.
Clement it remembered to say of its father, of whom equal bars were local of concentration of with lack of objectives the search of the nothing, with risk of envolvimentos without future advantages. The heat was strong thanks to the magnificent esplendor of the sun, that reigned sovereign the day all. In the interior of the bar, the heat was still more strong. The ventilation imperfection enhanced smells it of the hairy armpits displayed for the shirts regattas, sweated of days of use, ally to the ones of the respingos of vomits in the bermuda shorts.
§ June 19th, 2023 § Filed under General § Tagged stories Comments Off on Parallel Bars
Parallel bars Good day sadness? Franoise Sagan made of this world-wide famous heading to eternalize this questioning. It will be that this feeling is really our close friend? The first one to see when waking up? With that eyes this writer feminist, human without wrote it to north? It directed a look admired for Marcel Proust, great French writer and if auto its workmanship nominated Sagan in homage. What Sagan, Proust and the sadness have in common? Perhaps sensitivity the flower of the skin, capricious ' ' I do not know what ' ' Following the line of the doubt, admiration, I do not know as two ways, for workmanship of are perhaps interlaced in one afternoon of sunday. Sunday, family, the mother all cries when seeing the care of three years if they esvarem of its hands when its son in its pedalar trimmed runs away from its field of vision. He is premessenger of freedom, watershed, maturity, life But it is inside the love, this does not go! It touches the telephone and the sunday he is cloudy. It finishes to break somebody special thing that as my son does not go to make the contour in the end of park.
Two distinct ways, one brings the life the other, lacks life. It has luggage to face this track! Track this makes that me to find with ' ' Good day tristeza' ' it makes me to enchant with Proust, to cry with the life. But still it is life! I can see the lines parallel bars! It only remains me to follow and already it is everything, with the wisdom that the time brings and the least time to practise. In the sunday end, wisely, cordial, it says: ' ' Good day sadness? ' '. Alive it leaves and it to pass.
§ February 3rd, 2013 § Filed under General § Tagged stories Comments Off on Enchantments Beauties
Enchantments, beauties and mysteries Age midnight. Elma did not stop to think about what its neighbor counts to it. Sleep did not obtain to gain it and the sweat covered its immovable body. It did not want to believe, but something said to it that the possibilities of the fact were not null to be true. It praid. E, when it only heard snaps for the house, the words ran away from its mouth and it forgot the conjuncts. Its husband slept, its children slept and entrancing silence got worse the sensation of that the more frequent snaps were each time.
Brandina owner liveed in lugarejo has many years and knew its enchantments, its beauty and its mysteries. The white hair and the bending coasts showed of far that the arduous work of roa makes with that, throughout the years, its body was to the few if delivering. However, its memory was of a girl. Costumava to visit Elma, therefore was the neighbor next to its house. Its visits were always when entardecer, therefore the work all occupied its time during the day. Before the night, it headed for house, where it lived alone, since its son marries it has many years.
Brandina owner, however, in its last visit, while she counted its memories, did not perceive that the time passes and the night folloied already it. She observed it to Elma, while it looked at for the soil road and seemed hipnotizada. At this moment, the old lady counted one of the mysteries of that place. In the way until its house, she had an enormous tree. Such tree grows on one old cemetary abandoned e, according to it, who passed that way at night heard chains dragging, racket of rocks being plays and children playing of wheel. Nobody obtained to see nothing, to feel and only to hear.
