O observador. Penetra o olhar, astuto
Divaga numa sensação de rarefacção, melancólico
A carícia daquele casal, no livro, é parecida com a realidade - ela pousa a sua mão na coxa dele. Ele observa-a. Depois engole ligeiramente e aproximando-se, encosta os lábios à sua boca. Lá fora, o tempo. Parece entoar uma ladainha amarela e húmida. Agora as línguas dançam. O observador fecha o livro. Deposita-o na estante e segue
Caminho.
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Mostrar mensagens com a etiqueta Curtas. Mostrar todas as mensagens
segunda-feira, 1 de outubro de 2018
Edgar Was A Bad Story, Thankfully.
Edgar Was A Bad Story, Thankfully.
Coincidence or not. Imagine you open a book, you take the 1st page and before you're done reading it, bam... there's a laboratory building up in your brain, with answers. The ones you've failed to attain for a while now. Maybe given up searching.
And then there's this path of undesirable situations you run into with no obvious reason where you end up killing time in a bookstore and you take the wrong book which leads you into the holy grail.
Breathe, slowly. Take two fingers from your left and right hands, adjusting them to the floor's cold surface. Allow me the rambling but none of us is heading nowhere, so you can just take a deep, slow breath and feel the temperature rising from the ground up to your fingers, skin slightly warming up as bones and nerves relax.
Edgar was a bad story and I shouldn't have forgotten that dinner but that's the way you open your door when someone's knocking and you don't listen.
Moreover there was a huge blue descending upon us.
Coincidence or not. Imagine you open a book, you take the 1st page and before you're done reading it, bam... there's a laboratory building up in your brain, with answers. The ones you've failed to attain for a while now. Maybe given up searching.
And then there's this path of undesirable situations you run into with no obvious reason where you end up killing time in a bookstore and you take the wrong book which leads you into the holy grail.
Breathe, slowly. Take two fingers from your left and right hands, adjusting them to the floor's cold surface. Allow me the rambling but none of us is heading nowhere, so you can just take a deep, slow breath and feel the temperature rising from the ground up to your fingers, skin slightly warming up as bones and nerves relax.
Edgar was a bad story and I shouldn't have forgotten that dinner but that's the way you open your door when someone's knocking and you don't listen.
Moreover there was a huge blue descending upon us.
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