Esta semana partilho algo mais na linha de uma short story, de quando o Inglês era a língua da minha alma e não tanto um idioma de trabalho...
Era e é um conto com muita auto-análise. São palavras que ainda me fazem acenar em concordância.
In the dark - 17.06.2009
She couldn't see past all the Darkness - wether in the room or inside her - that night.Like a Summer fire (born slowly, from an intense heat wave) the mental riot started small, weak and escalated to the porpotion of a Sea of tears.
Like few times before, she found herself confronted with her doubts and fears without being able to stop. Stop questioning everything. As that overcomes the personal doubt. This encounter was made of dreams, feelings, words and memories, with the special twist of surprise.
So she lied there crying, with echos and threads (or are they threats?) of Past days as companions; in a room once full of Love and laughter she could only think of the black tick Darkness around her and the unexpected salty stream in her face.
And as the hours built on top of each other, one small, simple sentence - she almost couldn't recall anymore - stood:
"I'll be yours as long as you are mine."
And for the first time since those words came out from her fingertips, she understood that that was exactly what happened. It all started and ended as the whim it was, by the hands of its creator.
Then, slowly and painfully she was returned to her reality, accepting yet another piece of the (apparently) neverending jigsaw, gave into the bright blackness of the room and fell asleep.