"And I remember every object with fierce affection. Had I not loved my grandmother, and had she not loved my mother very well and loved me, those things would just be things. After Mormor died, I walked with my own mother outside our house in Minnesota, and she said to me that the strangest part of her mother's death was that a person who had only wanted the best for her wasn't there anymore. I recall exactly where the two of us were standing in the yard when she said it. I remember the summer weather, the slight browning of the grass from the heat, the woods at our left. It's as if I inscribed her words into that particular landscape, and the funny thing is that they are still written there for me. Not long after that conversation, I dreamed that my grandmother was alive and spoke to me. I don't remember what she said in the dream, but it was one of those dreams in which you are conscious that the person is dead but is suddenly alive and with you again."
Siri Hustvedt, in A Plea For Eros
Que digo? Não está o que sinto impresso em todos os objetos que me rodeiam? Não está escrito na minha face, nos meus olhos, em todas as minhas acções? As minhas palavras, os meus suspiros, até o meu próprio silêncio, aquele silêncio tão profundo, não expressam os meus afectos? O ar, o ar do que sinto, dos meus desejos; o ar, sim, tantas vezes ferido pela minha voz, elevou-os até ao lugar onde ela mora.
ResponderEliminarBeijo-te,
Damiel: "Algo acontece. Continua a acontecer. É inevitável. Era noite e agora é dia. Agora ainda mais. Quem era quem? Eu estava nela e ela em redor de mim. Quem no mundo pode afirmar que alguma esteve unido assim a um outro ser humano?" in Der Himmel über Berlin
EliminarBeijo-te,