Silêncio

You

And I want to play hide-and-seek and give you my clothes and tell you I like your shoes and sit on the steps while you take a bath and massage your neck and kiss your feet and hold your hand and go for a meal and not mind when you eat my food and meet you at Rudy's and talk about the day and type your letters and carry your boxes and laugh at your paranoia and give you tapes you don't listen to and watch great films and watch terrible films and complain about the radio and take pictures of you when you're sleeping and get up to fetch you coffee and bagels and Danish and go to Florent and drink coffee at midnight and have you steal my cigarettes and never be able to find a match and tell you about the the programme I saw the night before and take you to the eye hospital and not laugh at your jokes and want you in the morning but let you sleep for a while and kiss your back and stroke your skin and tell you how much I love your hair your eyes your lips your neck your breasts your arse your

and sit on the steps smoking till your neighbour comes home and sit on the steps smoking till you come home and worry when you're late and be amazed when you're early and give you sunflowers and go to your party and dance till I'm black and be sorry when I'm wrong and happy when you forgive me and look at your photos and wish I'd known you forever and hear your voice in my ear and feel your skin on my skin and get scared when you're angry and your eye has gone red and the other eye blue and your hair to the left and your face oriental and tell you you're gorgeous and hug you when you're anxious and hold you when you hurt and want you when I smell you and offend you when I touch you and whimper when I'm next to you and whimper when I'm not and dribble on your breast and smother you in the night and get cold when you take the blanket and hot when you don't and melt when you smile and dissolve when you laugh and not understand why you think I'm rejecting you when I'm not rejecting you and wonder how you could think I'd ever reject you and wonder who you are but accept you anyway and tell you about the tree angel enchanted forest boy who flew across the ocean because he loved you and write poems for you and wonder why you don't believe me and have a feeling so deep I can't find words for it and want to buy you a kitten I'd get jealous of because it would get more attention than me and keep you in bed when you have to go and cry like a baby when you finally do and get rid of the roaches and buy you presents you don't want and take them away again and ask you to marry me and you say no again but keep on asking because though you think I don't mean it I do always have from the first time I asked you and wander the city thinking it's empty without you and want want you want and think I'm losing myself but know I'm safe with you and tell you the worst of me and try to give you the best of me because you don't deserve any less and answer your questions when I'd rather not and tell you the truth when I really dont' want to and try to be honest because I know you prefer it and think it's all over but hang on in for just ten more minutes before you throw me out of your life and forget who I am and try to get closer to you because it's a beautiful learning to know you and well worth the effort and speak German to you badly and Hebrew to you worse and make love with you at three in the morning and somehow somehow somehow communicate some of the overwhelming undying overpowering unconditional all-encompassing heart-enriching mind-expanding on-going never-ending love I have for you.

^{Sarah Kane, in Crave}

O Amor Romântico

O amor romântico é como um traje, que, como não é eterno, dura tanto quanto dura; e, em breve, sob a veste do ideal que formámos, que se esfacela, surge o corpo real da pessoa humana, em que o vestimos. O amor romântico, portanto, é um caminho de desilusão. Só o não é quando a desilusão, aceite desde o príncipio, decide variar de ideal constantemente, tecer constantemente, nas oficinas da alma, novos trajes, com que constantemente se renove o aspecto da criatura, por eles vestida.

^{in Livro do Desassossego, Bernardo Soares}

4.48 Psychosis

- At 4.48
   when sanity visits
   for one hour and twelve minutes I am in my right mind.
   When it has passed I shall be gone again,
   a fragmented puppet, a grotesque fool.
   Now I am here I can see myself
   but when I am charmed by vile delusions of happiness,
   the foul magic of this engine of sorcery,
   I cannot touch my essential self.

   Why do you believe then and not now?

   Remember the light and believe the light.
   Nothing matters more.
   Stop judging by appearances and make a right judgment.

- It's all right. You will get better.

- Your disbelief cures nothing.

   Look away from me.

^{Sarah Kane}

O Ser Humano

Talvez possamos comparar o ser humano a uma banheira de faiança branca: durante a infância e a primeira juventude, a banheira enche-se de uma água clara e fresca, que sussurra risonha; depois a água fica morna, cada vez mais quente, é uma água destinada à lavagem das acções, dos pensamentos, das sensações, condenada a perder a sua pureza sem com isso poder ser suja de qualquer maneira, uma água destinada a ser despejada quando quem nela se banha já não tiver forças para continuar a segregar porcaria. Se o ser humano é esta banheira, chega uma momento da vida em que uma mão desconhecida tira o tampão do fundo e em que a água, de novo fria, escorre com a sua porcaria e a sua pureza; o silvo da morte que sai do cano a princípio enche de medo o ser humano, mas este rapidamente se resigna e por fim só deseja que a mão desconhecida que abriu o tampão, limpe depois com uma escova as camadas de sujidade que ficarem dos lados da banheira. Mas com um triste gemido a última água turva é sorvida, também ela, pelo buraco negro, a banheira está vazia e fica silenciosa, está morta e a casa de banho envolta em sombras. Com a porta aferrolhada pelo lado de fora, a casa de banho está fechada para toda a eternidade, nunca mais ninguém ali tomará banho.

^{in A Ilha dos Condenados, Stig Dagerman}

nota: Este excerto já foi lido no Silêncio, mas achamos que vale a pena ressuscitá-lo. Talvez o mesmo venha a suceder com outros. Para estes reavivar de memória criámos o capítulo Reposição