Uma boa conversa durante horas de solidão de uma noite,
Uma poesia recebida,
Uma beleza compartilhada,
Um sentimento, um pedaço do mundo,
Um agradecimento resta apenas,
Obrigada.

The snow man

One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;

And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter

Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,

Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place
For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.

Wallace Stevens

The sound of a crack of bones

This story starts with the sound of a crack of bones, into a mixture of flesh, blood and gold, it could be heard the whispering of life leaving the moisted spiracles with the sweat of an unlived life.

The sound danced in the air and with soft restings, it arrived in everyone’s ear bringing the certainty of hope. While the eyes were closed and minds were traveling though peaceful places and hidden courage, just for a moment, just for a second, people there met their souls again.

But the wind is hard and can’t let it’s way behind. It came and went away carrying with it that moment from those whose heart was weak.

Breaking the inertia of the scene, the light of the sun illuminated all the street and those frozen wax dolls returned from that dream. Right after faces gained expressions of horror, mercy, pain and guilt. The body was still there…

In the middle of the room, on the floor, on that destroyed bus, it was lain such a young body maculated by iron laminas and glass, cuts made blood come out and bring color to that brunet skin, contaminating the atmosphere with the smell of death, which carried the taste of life away with it. Pieces of fabric, dirty with red wine and golden dust, covered the fresh and the strength of that tender women, but her eyes were wide open and even though without movement it was bright and showed all the wishes for love, freedom, passion and art.

Watching that image, some people there just could not understand that the accident wasn’t an unfair and cruel occurrence. It was the crack of a moment, the crack of a situation, the crack of an old spirit. One crack that does not break or destroy, one crack that makes it be reborn and makes souls free.

Based in Frida Kahlo’s life.