Category Archives: Divagações

Confissão maternal

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Qualquer adulto que lide prazenteiramente com crianças sabe que estas pensam que os seus progenitores são omniscientes e daí a quantidade infindável de “porquê isto, porquê aquilo”. Ora qualquer pai e mãe não precisa de o ser para saber que de omnisciente pouco temos. Daí a minha sensação de “fracasso”, às vezes de burrice mesmo, quando a minha resposta é “não sei”. O problema é que fico mesmo a matutar naquilo e a pensar com os meus botões que deveria ter estado mais atenta a certas aulas de Ciências Naturais e até de Físico-Química.

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À descoberta…

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I can write the saddest lines tonight.

Write for example: ‘The night is fractured
and they shiver, blue, those stars, in the distance’

The night wind turns in the sky and sings.
I can write the saddest lines tonight.
I loved her, sometimes she loved me too.

On nights like these I held her in my arms.
I kissed her greatly under the infinite sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could I not have loved her huge, still eyes.

I can write the saddest lines tonight.
To think I don’t have her, to feel I have lost her.

Hear the vast night, vaster without her.
Lines fall on the soul like dew on the grass.

What does it matter that I couldn’t keep her.
The night is fractured and she is not with me.

That is all. Someone sings far off. Far off,
my soul is not content to have lost her.

As though to reach her, my sight looks for her.
My heart looks for her: she is not with me

The same night whitens, in the same branches.
We, from that time, we are not the same.

I don’t love her, that’s certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the breeze to reach her.

Another’s kisses on her, like my kisses.
Her voice, her bright body, infinite eyes.

I don’t love her, that’s certain, but perhaps I love her.
Love is brief: forgetting lasts so long.

Since, on these nights, I held her in my arms,
my soul is not content to have lost her.

Though this is the last pain she will make me suffer,
and these are the last lines I will write for her.

Pablo Neruda (Twenty Poems of Love)

Self-reflection

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“Amazing how easily I can talk to complete strangers and open up about more private affairs. What I think most do in their daily lives, with their friends, relatives, close ones, I seem to be doing faster with unknown ones. The fact that it’s been happening for many years now just confirms my dual side personality. Have I regretted any of this? No, I have not. Actually, it has allowed me to get to know myself a lot better and what I want and need in many areas of my personal life. Will it go on? Most likely, as it makes up for what I lack and am unable to do. Is it right? Maybe not, but it’s how things stand right now and I feel happy this way.”