THE RAIN

He sat and waited. It felt awkward having all those different curious faces staring at him as if he had comitted the most serious crime. Was it a sin to wait outside? Was it inappropriate to be frightened of the images he might see inside? He couldn’t care less. They both had decided he would sit in the corridor and hear the important sound when the time came. And it came. He heard it loud and clear. A cry. An endless cry. And he wanted that moment to last forever. Someone opened the door as he stood up. He was invited in and held the tiny little being in his arms. He was definetely too clumsy for the activity as two nurses kept their hands under his at all times.
Suddenly a second cry was heard. But he didn’t expect that one and apparently nobody else in the room seemed happy or relieved with that second cry. It was a distant sound but not far enough not to annoy. After a few moments of apprehension, there was only the sound of laugh and the first cry in their room. He looked at her in bed. Exhausted and in tears. But more beautiful than he had ever seen her. She smiled at him and he knew the day was perfect. There was only one thing missing outside. It was too sunny. But inside and with all the feelings of that magic moment, she wouldn’t notice it. They kissed as the nurses took the crying baby away.
She asked him if he had waited long because for her time hadn’t been a worry, she didn’t even know what time it was. He said it was the longest he had ever waited for and laughed. And now they waited together looking through the window. It would come. It had to. It has always followed their great moments. Only this time it took it longer to bring perfection to their day. But they would wait and hope for the relaxing sound of falling water.
She fell asleep as they had predicted and he felt the urge to smoke. Although he had promised to quit on that very day, he was too weak to do it and she needn’t know what he was going to do outside. He left her to her dreams and took the stairs all the way down to the main entrance. The sky was already dark, so dark he was sure it wouldn’t be long before the first drop. As he walked towards the corner he saw a wet face. Tears of grief, of rage were filling that woman’s eyes and he felt the first drop on his face. It was time to rush back to the door he had come from. However, he couldn’t move a muscle in his body.
The stranger realised she was being observed. She let down another tear and moved her eyes and face up to see the man who was smoking in the rain. He smiled peacefully and she felt his happiness, the sense of achievement in his eyes, in his nervous hands. She closed her eyes and smiled back at him, forcing her lips into a nice message. He read her goodness in that look and saw no tears as they now merged with drops of the heavy rain. She asked for a cigarette and he immediately gave her one and lighted it. They were now walking back to the hospital. Silently. They left the cigarettes in an ashtray outside and went through the door.
She looked at him once again, smiled and said in a calm voice:
- Congratulations.
He looked at her, smiled, thanked her but could produce no words. He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t read her and he didn’t know how to ask her whatever she came to the hospital for. He went upstairs to join his wife and found her awake carrying their little angel. Her head facing the window and there was a big smile as a result of the weather. He was still very unsure about the encounter in the rain and how to deal with it. Such a small neighbourhood he had judged himself aware of everyone around. He told his wife about a walk in the rain – but kept the cigarette part for himself - and also about the smiley congratulations.
She asked him if he knew who had just died down the corridor. All the nurses were talking about it. He replied he didn’t know and that it was not the best time for them to be talking about it. Little did he realise he had already looked into the eyes of the crying wife of the man whose body was now being taken downstairs to the morgue. He would never know. The mysterious tears were now gone. He only saw the strength in the woman’s smile to make his moment even better. And she had thought the rain would bring back her smile.
There was a deafeningly loud cry of curiousity in the room and the rain was now simply background music.

Flavigny-sur-Ozerain

Você reconhece a pequena casa à esquerda? A foto acima ajuda? A vitrine não está decorada com as delícias de Vianne Rocher (Juliette Binoche) e Johnny Depp não chega de barco (mesmo porque o rio não é tão perto quanto na ficção cinematográfica). Mesmo assim, o lugar é maravilhoso. Desde a estradinha que leva a suas ruas e construções medievais, até a Abadia St Pierre, que hoje abriga a fábrica de Anis tudo encanta. Cada esquina, cada pedaço da cripta da abadia mereceu uma foto. Mas a foto a que me refiro não posso publicar. É aquela que guardamos com o clique de nossos olhos. Aquela que eu posso editar, à qual posso adicionar elementos como o vento, o aroma de anis, o frio, o silêncio sepulcral das ruas desertas... Mas que não posso revelar e nem postar um link para que ela seja vista por outros. Assim, caríssimo leitor, anote aí a dica: Flavigny-sur-Ozerain. Não tem nenhuma fábrica de chocolate, não tem tanta gente andando na rua (aliás, só os pouquíssimos turistas), pelo menos não no inverno, mas tem muito charme, tem história, tem graça. A vila não aparece em qualquer mapa, não tem indicação em autoestrada, não tem estação de trem nem terminal rodoviário. Ainda assim, vale o sacrifício de procurar, caçar o pontinho em algum mapa e as minúsculas linhas que representam as estradinhas da região. Caminhe, observe, sinta, fotografe. Mas não deixe de experimentar as balinhas de anis.

...

Como falar sobre Londres? O que falar de tal cidade? Não dá. É preciso estar lá e, calada, ouvir e sentir a cidade... Deixar que cada minuto lá faça-se eterno. É necessário gostar de estar lá até quando o céu está cinza e quando começou a chover e se está no meio de um parque e sem guarda-chuva. É preciso amar. Deixo aqui, então, muitas reticências que dizem, num silêncio especial, tudo o que esta cidade representa ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

COLOURS

There I was, laying on an extremely clean bed, all by myself wondering where all the others were. I was sure I had company, I felt it. Silence. Not even my own voice, though again I was certain I had heard someone shouting. Heart beats. Mine? Probably, since I appeared to be alone in the room. Loneliness. So many feelings and, at the same time, I wasn’t sure I could feel anything.
______________________

I blinked. There, now I could see all the people again. And how happy we were. Great music was playing. We were all dancing. Romance. I felt the touch of him, his kisses. Oh, his moist lips. Those blue eyes staring me so deeply, studying every inch of my skin very carefully. How he knew his way around… And I could practically smile at him the whole day and only wish for more. When looking again into his eyes, I saw it: the red tear. For a moment I thought he was crying. Then I realised I had just caught a glimpse of myself reflected in his left eye. And his image blurred, faded out. Where did he go? Where was everybody?

______________________

From the floor, I looked up. Everyone around me. I was so glad I could finally feel part of a group. It was an amazing sensation, like a dance. Only that my head was spinning, the room was moving and so were all the others, but not my body. It was as stiff as it could be, just waiting to feel again, to touch, to be touched. Oh, what a breathtaking view, a human rainbow above my head. It was like playing musical chairs, being the chair myself.

_____________________

I was handed a glass brimming with brightly coloured particles. It looked like a snowy souvenir of blue, pink, yellow, brown, green flakes. It sounded enticingly delicious. I made my move towards it. Infectious laughter – all around. Getting completely carried away I drained the glass at one gulp. Emptiness. Suddenly, the dance floor looked magnificent! I felt an urge to kiss it and so I did. I was touching soft white skin; I could feel strong hands all over me. My tongue tasting the warm, inviting wooden planks. They suddenly turned black.

____________________

I looked around. My mind was playing tricks at me. The snow, the rainbow, the tear… Nothing was really there. A spotlessly clean wall, that was all I could see. I woke up. This time lights faded. Pitch dark. Silence. No heart beats. Was I really awake? Last things that came to my mind were his vivid image and my own mocking voice: “People die… Everyone knows that”. Colourless me.

And so it is...

Bem, depois de muito ensaiar e de buscar um título para o blog... Ei-lo... E antes que me perguntem, o título é este mesmo, porque é assim que leio revistas, de trás para frente. Não os livros. Ainda não. Mas também não é má idéia. E os filmes... Bem, a tecnologia ainda não os traz organizados em diversas ordens. Exceto Amnésia. Mas, além de mim mesma e mais duas ou três pessoas, não conheço ninguém que tenha gostado do filme. Na verdade, muitos odeiam os flashbacks... Eu adoro. Well, esta primeira postagem serve apenas de apresentação. Outras virão, espero eu, para satisfazer minha vontade de escrever (mais do que apenas deixar arquivos de Word guardados no computador que um vírus virá um dia a destruir) e, quem sabe, para o deleite de leitores.
Até breve.