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quinta-feira, 27 de fevereiro de 2014

No alto do bojo

      Éramos dois até então, mas somos um. Olhei o espelho que não estava mais no quarto. Ele parecia cheio de sentimentos, afogado em emoções opacas, as quais nunca acreditei, embora quisesse. Livrei-me dos afagos, abri a gaveta, dobrei-os ao meio, como se faz com camisas importadas. Em seguida, repousei-os com cuidado, para que não os acordassem. Eles haviam dormido por muito tempo. Nem lembro quanto tempo. Espanei o armário da sala para ocupar meus neurônios - não funcionará com as janelas fechadas, pensei, então as abri. Ouvi falar sobre as límpidas margens dos oceanos através de um pássaro que repousara no fio. Ele piava a um braço de distância da janela aberta. Piava alto, no alto do poste. Era o quarto andar onde talvez eu estivesse. Imaginei as crianças e o tempo passar rápido, toda vida que pudera transcorrer e a dor de como se elas um dia tivessem de fato ocorrido. Sem ouvir os sinais, a água batia nos rochedos às margens do oceano. Era calmo demais dentro de mim. Havia resto de pelos pelo sofá. Livrei-me batendo neles com o travesseiro. Os pelos, por consequência, flutuavam através dos primeiros raios de sol. Fazia sol, atrás das nuvens, atrás dos prédios. Sentei-me na sacada e apanhei meu instrumento. Algumas notas disparadas, afugentando o pássaro e suas histórias mal contadas sobre um dia num oceano, que parecia mais um rio, com risos e crianças de um dia que nunca havia acontecido. Pensei sobre o seu rosto. Sobre a vida que nos foi oferecida por nós mesmos. Não disse nada, apenas algumas notas disparadas. Senti-o dentro de mim, no quarto, no vazio do livro, no livreiro empoeirado. Li seu amor de desdenho, e minhas cordas a disparar. Deveria ser difícil, afinal, talvez o amor uma vez que entre - convidado ou não convidado -, seja como uma aresta danificada de um navio de turismo, uma viagem que o destino final é o alcance do fundo do oceano. Se você já foi, deve ter fotos para lembrá-lo(a) da amargura do seu vazio. Deixei-me ir pela correnteza... enquanto deitei-me no azulejo da sala, fitei o abajur. Nada parecia tão convincente quanto a ausência do bojo. Vamos nos torturando, nos machucando, aos poucos, pra quê?



 

quarta-feira, 5 de fevereiro de 2014

The Last Days on Earth

        Code RED

         I thought I'd see them getting out of that room. They were supposed to be the chosen ones. They were 50 or so. Fifty people who sought to understand why they were put to proof once more. Another exam for testing their skills? They had lost their relatives by choosing to try and they could escape from the "Day of Fire". That's what we've all thought so far. 
      The prince, the right hand of the elected president and ruler of the spaceships, entered in the control room. There was a big glass window separating us from them. I crossed my arms waiting for an answer, wondering there was something wrong, in my deepest and most obscure thoughts. He stared at me.
         -  Why in madness you keep stalking me? - he  asked with what sounded like a threatening voice. 
   And I replied, carefully, wondering If I sounded intrusive to his commands. 
         -  I came, Thesus, in order to understand the procedures: uncles's order.
        He didn't question my answer and probably thought the prince had told me his plans before taking any actions. He turned to the guards and command them to activate Code Red. 
        Code Red took me to a place in my memory. I looked back on when people from my dad's company used to train the Fire Drills. If I were not mistaken, they would burn them. They would burn like their relative burned on Earth. Why was that happening? Was that some kind of joke? Many of them were experts in physics, numbers, computer science, chemistry, biology, linguistics. Why would they throw them away? That wasn't in the protocole. Either he was taking over the situation or that was really my uncle's command... I thought that, at least, he would give them some sort of chance, a trick, a different puzzle to solve, but they he didn't. They were stuck, unaware of what was ahead to come. It was frightening and nightmarish. They were going to be set on fire on that very room. As the fire consumed the room, they frenetically shook their bodies, screamed, dropped, rolled, catching fire as their skin turned to flesh and  their blood melted on the floor. My eyes witnessed the struggle for survival. I couldn't do anything except for letting them burn. Many of them familiar faces. Candidates who showed up on TV. Many of them I rooted for a place there.. and now they were dying as the seconds passed, the fire burned their guts from inside out. 
        I left the control room unseen and moved to the strategy room, where several meetings used to happen. I looked for Leah, my best friend... the only one I could talk to about it. The one that at least I knew it wouldn't be necessary sharing words. Just one glance would be good enough. The door opened and she was by the table holding firmly a cup of coffee. Possibly afflicted by my conspiracy  theories.. She noticed I was there as I got to her side. I nodded and it was done, she believed me. They had killed them and she knew it. They had given them hope and took it away as though they were leftovers. I knew it would end up on something like that. They were unjust on the beginning. Bailing on whom would be useless for them wouldn't  take so much effort. I just didn't expect I would care so much. I hadn't thought about my feelings over the facts. Appearantly, things are not about feelings this time. Things had changed before Earth was gone. People had changed. Humanity has changed.

                                                                                                               The Last Days On Earth