Cheers. I figured a little free writing wouldn't do us much harm, so here's to tragedy. A fundamental spice, not needing to be a social voyeur to recognize its meaning.I'm not referring to hurricanes, volcanoes, cyclones or wars. At least the geophysical or social categories, but the intrinsic. What could be more tragic than a lost chance, calling someone else his name, words left unsaid, wishing you had made it to that funeral, starting up that fight you never did because you thought it just wasn't worth it, eating that pie, giving that gift you considered too kitsch, drinking that bottle. Or just that glass.
Tragedy expresses itself in so many facets. I have this vivid picture of myself trying to grab water with my bare hands. Perhaps it has something to do with Gianluca Grignani's 'La mia storia tra le dita', which was part of my teenage soundtrack, but, oramai, non saprei dirlo. Just like that dream I once had about a boy who had the most beautiful blue eyes I had ever seen, and when I told him that, he replied that he was blind.
Another notable aspect of tragedy is self accomplishment. It simply draws one to consumate not more, nor less than its natural finale. As getting on a plane to eastern skies, arian grounds, mediterranean sunsets. Not mattering that slippery water running through those fingers. To the point you can't discern between cold, warmth, or pain.
Let's reconcile. '...sin perder la ternura.' The anterior catharsis is essential to the enrichment of one's full being. A writer once said that the unhappy years were accountable for the greatness of his work, not the joyful moments. It's common knowledge that the best victory is the one an individual fought hard to achieve. Otherwise, there would be no means of satisfaction. Certainty does lead to undervaluing, taking things for granted.
What makes you ache, makes you smile. Those same 'vasa' that cause you to bleed, may make you blush. Or even your heart beat faster when he walks by your sidewalk or your thoughts. Gently wondering- he, or someone else, or something might return.
Amanda Cardoso
Texto de minha grande amiga Amanda, que comungou sempre comigo meio que telepaticamente tantas EMOÇÕES... E não há nada melhor do que dividirmos a linguagem dos anjos entre seres de mesma espécie! Por isso, aqui na varanda reservo este pequeno espaço para suas palavras de poliglota e gênio literário (na minha opinião) que por ventura vêm a complementar o meu texto "transeuntes no tempo" quase que na íntegra. Seus comentários me foram relatados on line. E meus agradecimentos, assim - também!
Espero que aprecie na estrutura que escolheu!
Um forte abraço, Marcelle.
P.S.: Sinto-me lisongeada com sua presença na varanda!
Parabéns pela profundeza do texto!
