quarta-feira, 22 de junho de 2011
In a decrepit library where there are several mangos tree around it, in which hardly ever comes someone to study, in spite of the pleasant place for reading. as it hasn’t any persons, it attracks another kind of animal: bats. They are attracked by the sweet smell of the fruits competing with a single reader. Memor, a middle age man who reading is his favorite pastime.
At the time of the year, the old library is an attractive place only for night-owl creatures take over for the day, as the place is always closed, and they think they’re safe in dark rooms.
When the afternoon comes down, Memor, retired man, enjoys appreciating by reading a good book of choice modernist novels like Jorge Amado and others of them.
One day , when He was alone in his world of reading and pleasure, Memo felt a cold wind blowing his neck. It was a so intense cold that ran down his whole cord making him very nervous. And his heart beating very speedy. His hair, arm airs horrified showed his fear. But right before him there were an answer.
It was a bat that flew and had gone sit down on an wood of the home, right before his very eyes. Up there, it began to swing like a pendulum. As if Memor believed it wanted to hypnotize him to suck his precious purple liquid of human.
Memor watched the animal and he was fearing.
Before the animal decided to attack again, memo decided to attack before and He tried to hunt the defenceless animal.
He had only one leathern slipper and threw towards the small creature and He nearly hit it. However, the bat couldn’t understand anything about that surprise – attack.
It was as innocent as the man. Then as He came always to read.
It had always flown when the afternoon was over. But it was starting to rain and it getting dark too much early. It had awaked to exercise its body, afterward, to begin its routine of somnambulist.
And that´s why a tragedy was going to happen with it. It didn´t know what was going, but It was sure a thing, It would have to get away of furious man’s violent attacks. And then it flew from corner to corner, it flew the fastest it could to save its life.
But every time the man went wrong his attack he got angrier.and more furious He came back to put an end to defenceless night-owl animal. It found a rift in house top and it flew straight to get away the siege. But , by the time it was already reaching the exit it felt its left wing that staggering, hit in the wall and fell on the ground like a fluffy packet full of anything, now without strength unconscious, dead the winning man, happy by having executed his mission, held it by the hurt wing, poor and useless bat, still hot with its last moment of live, and put it inside a bottle with alcohol, to exposing to a lot of hundred of ignorant laymen the cruel scene, like a trophy of his mediocre victory.
When the enigmatic man recovered of the fear, took back his reading. He’s reading an early time’s realist novel, style Jorge Amado, in which, the scene is developed by the boyfriend being fondled by his darling. She was behind him passing her hand in his hair and grazing his nape with her ardent wishful lips. This time, reader and personage start to live a fictitious reality, in which, the proper reader seems to get involved much more and utterly by scene that’s read. It makes feel so concentrated in a pleasant and inebriating reading. Memor makes himself an alive character by acting, because He feels himself like real character, with the same sensations, with the same joys of the fondness. He utterly consumed by the reading and by the reality around him, He feels a hot sweat running down his breast and, at the same time, falling on the table, the book, the ground a scarlet liquid.
He’s benumbed by the fiction and by the reality, He tries to understand whether He’s been dreaming or sleeping. When He’s awoken truly off that snatch and apathy, He’s seen right before his very eyes, a bat flying happy and its mandibles were still bloody and tasting that human sweet scarlet liquid.
It was exactly the female of the bat which he’s had just to kill.
Bloody, now without a vision, he’s got before his eyes, more than one bat. And he had still the same gun which belonged to the first casualty, He tried to act but he didn’t have any good.
He got small all of a sudden. It was all what he got. And all of a sudden again he’s felt a mouse creeping on the table, and exceeding the proper blood He distressing the pages of that unhappy and wicked book which made it die.
When He jumped from the table, He thought he would fall on the ground; He felt to arise like a happy bird because he achieved freedom that all man wish to have one day.
However, He isn’t a bird. He isn’t a mouse. He isn’t a man. He is the own figure of man bat man. When He leaves the library He meets the same love, which got involved in the novel He read moments before. And everything very odd and confused for him. However He is sure the love in his heart makes to fell free as He cannot explain of so light forever. Well, He’s in motion, but He cannot distinguish sure whether he’s flying walking by or walking flying.
I was walking by the empty streets in Natal and having fun in the end of the afternoon in that wonderful day, because I Wanted to be in peace, to be calm, in silence in that day of grace, however, It was an afternoon of burning light, which invaded streets and avenues in that peaceful city. It was a holiday, independence of Brazil was celebrated. Our independence.
The whole avenue wound in the horizontal of the curves and in the vertical which happened illuminated ebony of the asphalt, when the sunlight reach it. There weren’t many cars. And, therefore, all was more silent than nowadays when everybody is working.
The king star graced the name that one day someone chose for it. And that also exalted without knowing the name of city that had its name or was said belonged to it. ‘city of the sun’. because of all, It shone like every other days of before. But everybody could see like a few few passer were happy. The happiness was stamped in their faces softly and clearly.
Out of the noisy cars, out of the people making tumult, birds can be heard: sparrow, kiskadee birds that got used to this mean to go on their kind. In spite that’s why was a day of grace. Holiday. For sure, Natal deserved that name in that day very much!
This is, for the light, for the peace, for the empty. The few people walking were free day by day situation and they seemed to broadcast happiness like all the birds, to streets, and specially, to day. Well, that day, was over and any sadness inside. Because It was day of our independence and It was holiday in our country.
And everything was an only happiness, a perennial satisfaction. I was sure that day lived and witnessed with the metropolis, literally our quieter, more beautiful, freer and more… day of independence.
But, for well of the veredict, in that endless joy, in that endless peace, paradoxically that day hide me, an also endless melancholy.
The afternoon was over, the warm and only night came. And the paradox established itself to deny the peace the afternoon had. Lighted stakes imitated the moon light to afford me the same peace. Switched off utterly and everything turn into darkness and fear.
And, our wonderful independence ‘ paradox, now was a prision for me. When I saw a poor mongrel dog, sleeping in street. There wasn’t anything between it and the cold ground in that night. When It saw I closing it up, It followed me along the road. I wanted to prevent it. But it wasn’t possible. The dog needed food. It was so thin I was sorry. It followed me to my home. I got home; and because of darkness that still remained, I served it leaftovers that would go to the rubbish. And I tied up in the piazza. I put a little water in a vessel and I went to the bed with justice in that day of independence of Brazil.
Next morning, the upset servant, called me to tell me someone had left a child in our piazza. I ran to see her. And I had a sad surprise, the child was still tied up and She was crying a lot.
terça-feira, 29 de março de 2011
The week was starting while Sunday was ending through the sunset, the moon let me see it was already for over twenty o´clock. as it was summer; we had privilege to delight with a light Marine breeze across the ways and streets, and it got into through the gate touching my face sweetly and our son we are keeping in a deep sleep and the door of the livingroom was half open-half closed All of a sudden I’ve seen something passing and It was very fast. It looked like the wind. That passed very next to me and to my child’s mother.
She distressed asked me if I had seen what had passed. I told her without hesitating
“It was a cat”.
In my soul, this answer came of my intuition.
I asked me to myself this answer.
Yrla , on the other hand, decided to clear up our doubt and before She get to the door, She saw into our home, in piazza, a man.
“ My god , a man!”
Yrla got desperate.
I figured out. if that was a man . it was odd very much.
because in spite of he’s a two-legged creature. he’s walking with four legs on the ground. he’s walking very next the wall and looked like a real animal and he made me remember Manoel Bandeira. he was really going toward rubbish brass in the back yard.
It was unbelievable when that little man invaded our hospitality.
Even with tall walls and closed gates he was able.
And I meditated without talking anything:”
“A hungerer person never beg to come in.”
Let me tell you reader woman, that animal got small. so small getting the least in height. I mean, It had eliminated itself all but utterly, only can pass over the meanest space between our iron gate and the ground. It had passed easily and wisely like a thief and hungry animal.
It was endlessly hunger.
It was very thin and it would die about that.
I was lying down and I went on this way. I was playing with our child. and at the same time I considered…
The hunger makes blind.
Yrla was desperate and frightened calling me asking to me catch the man who coming already been banished by someone else. the man was already in the rubbish brass and made himself owner of the first rubbish. due to the hunger that corroded his stomach.
He made the garbage to be only his.
The owner of the garbage’s brass were born a real crusher, who to feed himself would had to search for his prey. He, therefore, had own features of a cannibal. in essence of his kind. however, He had developed too much, to refuse his natural nourishment to feed of leftovers now. in deposit of remains, by night.
Without satisfation, with the invader next the super thin foreigner. the owner of the trash would have to defend himself really using teeth and nails. because that was his territory, where were his provisions from everyday, his existence.
When the invader wasn’t waiting, the other man jumped off the wall. and as clever as a cat astonished the careless and hungry visitor and he made him come back to his original place. the street.
And one more time, the man had to shrink with his very empty belly. and he had to pass by tight space of the gate again. this time sad and utterly disappointed by lacking food.
And I was in my trap playing and I thought…
“Rubbish also means food.”
When the poor man came back, he passed as fast as the visage that had passed before. however this time crying out stridulously and hopelessly making any human being to feel a lot of pitty even Yrla and I. Yrla was at the door waiting for me to banish the invader.
I didn’t move a finger to go out from I was, and still in trap when I saw the poor man pass running nearly crying. He was been taken by the owner of the rubbish who was his provisions’ brother too. in particular I had gotten very happy ´cause I didn’t go out off my trap to catch that poor man. but what drove me plot was I have seen fast a tail on each of the men. long tails.
It was that the only thing I could see about those small and odd men.
“But that how much indifference!”
Said Yrla turned to me smiling and I was in a doubt.
Trabalho, religião, lazer e andar dentro da lei sem ser amado.
A falta de amor não é um sofrimento como muitas pessoas falam.
Está começando mais um NÃO PERCA pela TV NATURAL e nós vamos agora ao vivo para onde mora Dagaiola com Wanderly di Freire.
Estamos chegando aqui no lar de Dagaiola para levar receitas para os assistentes.
- Dagaiola, muitas pessoas dizem que perder um amor é a coisa mais lamentável do mundo. Diga porque isso acontece.
- Isso acontece porque as pessoas geralmente vivem com amor, e elas até mesmo matam elas mesmas por amor.
- Como você vive sem amor?
- Eu vivo com amigos, trabalho e vivo, as aventuras que minha vida são submetidas a são garantidas pelos meus amigos. E eu acho que perder um trabalho é lamentável demais. Perder um amigo é lamentável demais. E quem tem um amor é lamentável demais se perdê-lo. E eu vivendo sem amor eu consigo viver feliz e eu não morrerei de tristeza algum dia.
- E se alguém te amar?
- Se alguém algum dia me amar deve pular por cima.
- E se você amar alguém?
- Se eu amar alguém eu pularei por cima porque o amor só dura enquanto a beleza dura. E a beleza foge de todo mundo todo dia e a cada dia dia depois de dia!
Voltemos aos estúdios do NÃO PERCA
Tudo bem, WanderBREVE CURRICULUM Vamos agora para os comerciais.
Natal, março de 1989. André Sales ganhava 300 cruzados novos por semana. S. Pinto era combatido por André Sales. André Sales era tão pequeno quanto S. Pinto.
Dagaiola era muito maior do que S. Pinto.
Dagaiola era apresentador de um programa para o qual ele não podia se atrasar. Se isso acontecesse, ele seria impedido de entrar e o programa seria apresentado por outra pessoa.
Está começando mais um NÃO PERCA pela TV NATURAL e no programa de hoje teremos uma entrevista com Dagaiola. Wanderley di Freire está ao vivo com Dagaiola.
- Vamos, Wanderley!
- Estamos aqui com Dagaiola para mostrar como difícil é alguém não conseguir executar tarefas fáceis.
- Dagaiola, é preocupante você precisar de um guarda costas e não saber calçar sapatos?
- Eu consigo calçar, mas a coisa mais difícil do mundo é amarrar as enfiadeiras.
S. Pinto era assassino poderoso e apenas alguém tão grande quanto ele e apenas alguém tão pequeno que ele podia detê-lo.
- Dagaiola, você tinha dez anos em 1999 e por que você não conseguia deter S. - Pinto e amarrar enfiadeira?
- Deter S. Pinto não é fácil. Se eu tentasse detê-lo e eu fracassasse talvez ele tivesse uma reação super-negativa. Amarrar enfiadeiras foi uma tarefa que eu não fui ensinado a fazer. Eu tinha quem me salvasse de S. Pinto. E eu não usava enfiadeiras porque o trabalho do meu protetor não era me arrumar.
- Dagaiola, você sempre viveu uma vida de sofrimento. Quais tragédias foram marcantes para você?
- Quando eu caminhava trazendo uma lata d´água, três policiais tomaram minha lata e lavaram os pés.
- Quando eu caminhava numa avenida um ônibus vinha em movimento lento em sentido contrário a mim um passageiro que estava em movimento dentro do ônibus em movimento cuspiu para fora do ônibus e atingiu o meu nariz. E eu também estava em movimento.
Movimento do ônibus
Movimento do passageiro
Movimento de Dagaiola
Voltaremos depois dos comerciais.