se eu lesse outras línguas talvez eu não gostasse de você

The end was quick and bitter

The end was quick and bitter.
Slow and sweet was the time between us,
slow and sweet were the nights
when my hands did not touch one another in despair but in the love
of your body which came
between them.

And when I entered into you
it seemed then that great happiness
could be measured with precision
of sharp pain. Quick and bitter.

Slow and sweet were the nights.
Now is bitter and grinding as sand—
'Let's be sensible' and similiar curses.

And as we stray further from love
we multiply the words,
words and sentences so long and orderly.
Had we remained together
we could have become a silence.

Yehuda Amichai

if you lived in the other side i could see you when i walk by and i haven't to imagen you everytime and i realize that we don't have any be than a not-be and you and i won't still breath in the same line i could see you when i walk by If you lifed in the other side.

engraçado como quando você uma pessoa todos os dias e de uma hora para a outro deixa de ver porque alguma coisa quebrou, parece que falta um pedaço de alguma coisa, quem sabe é só o costume de coisas pequenas como o fato de ter pra quem ligar e de saber que, independente do resto, alguém liga pra você só para saber como você está. não sei explicar nada, só sei que algo falta.


A Pity. We Were Such a Good Invention by Yehuda Amichai

They amputated
Your thighs off my hips.
As far as I'm concerned
They are all surgeons. All of them.

They dismantled us
Each from the other.
As far as I'm concerned
They are all engineers. All of them.

A pity. We were such a good
And loving invention.
An aeroplane made from a man and wife.
Wings and everything.
We hovered a little above the earth.

We even flew a little.

e não tinha elo...

Paper Bag Fiona Apple

I was staring at the sky, just looking for a star
To pray on, or wish on, or something like that
I was having a sweet fix of a daydream of a boy
Whose reality i knew, was a hopeless to be had
But then the dove of hope began its downward slope
And i believed for a moment that my chances
Were approaching to be grabbed
But as it came down near, so did a weary tear
I thought it was a bird, but it was just a paper bag

Hunger hurts, and i want him so bad, oh it kills
Cuz I know I'm a mess he don't wanna clean up
I got to fold cuz these hands are too shaky to hold
Hunger hurts, but starving works
When it costs too much to love

And I went crazy again today,
Looking for a strand to climb
Looking for a little hope

Baby said he couldn't stay, wouldn't put his lips to mine,
And a fail to kiss is a fail to cope
I said, "honey, i don't feel so good, don't feel justified
Come on put a little love here in my void"
He said "it's all in your head", and I said "so's everything"
But he didn't get it
I thought he was a man
But he was just a little dang boy

Hunger hurts, and i want him so bad, oh it kills
Cuz i know i'm a mess he don't wanna clean up
I got to fold cuz these hands are too shaky to hold
Hunger hurts, but starving works
When it costs too much to love

divagações - luz de madrugada

decisões deliberadas nas emergências do momento afetam - e são afetadas por - qualquer possibilidade de racionalidade. elas unicamente se cobrem da impressão de validade, completude, sentido e finalidade que por momentos talvez tiveram. quando elas vem dos outros -  e vem uma vez que a possibilidade disso foi aberta também em emergência - a sensação de exposição e dependência se somatiza na impossibilidade do sono, no aumento do frio, na agitação de ideias. calcular ações nunca foi meu forte. nem as minhas nem as dos outros. demostrações de inocência ou distração? prefiro sofrer as consequências de formas de agir, reverberações de maneiras de me pensar no mundo que passar por aqui sem a dor e sem o tudo que vem com ela, mas compensada pela racionalidade. o medo de sofrer faz que corramos exatamente para onde decididamente deliberamos que não iríamos (justamente por ser seu oposto). pular de uma emergência a outra. esperá-se achar felicidade, mas se a ideia de felicidade não passa de uma negação da própria contingência, ela se torna, sem dúvidas, a mais impossível de todas as impossibilidades. a esperança, por outro lado - que desta toma a mão - é sempre uma esperança no outro, e a esperança que ele faça o que eu faria. ou acho que faria na emergência. divido a possibilidade de que os caminhos que você escolha possam ser doloridos e felizes.

confio no elo

definitivamente

Encontrei a música que descreve as coisas que terminaram. Agora não há nem choro.





It's All Over But the Crying
Garbage

Everything you think you know
Baby, is wrong
And everything you think you had
Baby, is gone

Certain things turn ugly
When you think too hard
And nagging little thoughts
Change into things you can't turn off

Everything you think you know
Baby, is wrong

It's all over but the crying
Fade to black, I'm sick of trying
Took too much and now I'm done
It's all over but the crying


Do you really think I'm made of stone?
Baby, come on
That we only love the things we own?
Baby, you're wrong


Certain things just happen
When you make no plans
And love can really tear you up
And it can break you down

Everything you think you know
Baby, is wrong

It's all over but the crying
Fade to black, I'm sick of trying
Took too much and now I'm done
It's all over but the crying

Baby, we're done

If I could, I would
I'd change everything
'Cause I can't forget you
Though you don't believe me
Now I can't walk back
I can't leave behind
Where does it go?
All the light that we had

Everything you think you know
Baby, is wrong
And everything you think you had
Baby, is gone

Baby, we're done

faz algum tempo cheguei à conclusão que só amor não basta, só amor não sustenta um relacionamento. Hoje me pergunto, se só amor não sustenta, o quê então?