SENZA TE

Volta e meia me intriga e emociona a forma como o amor nos transpõe, nos envolve, nos alcança... Uma festa canina ao chegar em casa, um sorriso, um abraço, um dedo de prosa, um viva pro sonho, um banho de realidade, um coraçãozinho jogado na sua tela, um convite, uma figurinha, um beijo soprado, beijo molhado, beijo que afunda na bochecha, roubado, imaginado... Aperto os olhos e o carinho vai tendo cara e nome de gente, e as gentes vão se formando devagar como um desenho nas nuvens. Recebo tanto amor que às vezes me bate uma vontade estranha de elencar os porquês. Porque eu quero? Porque eu mereço? Porque eu posso? Porque eu preciso? Porque eu compartilho? Vou (di)vagando por minhas linhas tortas, driblando o espelho, querendo ser mais, ter mais, correndo contra o tempo, cheia de afazeres para justificar a bênção dessa existência, que me permite correr e dançar ballet e bater perna com salto alto em meio a malabarismos de minha coluna chorosa. Estaciono meus múltiplos pensares por esse pátio em branco e agradeço por cada ser, cada flor, cada discurso fundamentado ou sonhador que levou meus achismos pra um passeio revigorante, pra essa roda gigante com vista pra além do horizonte. Reverencio minha inteligência, absorvo a paciência que fez de meus grãos de areia belas pérolas, que me desabrochou em pétalas com cheiro de esperança, me banhou em lua de mim mesma, irradiou essa onda de calor da aura rosa que é pra eu chamar os meus, pra eu  me lembrar que não há espera para o que sempre foi meu... pra eu me aninhar num colo pronto a plantar linduras, regar doçuras e colher andanças. 

ÉRIKA

 Nowadays it seems to me that most people are scared of relationships because they can't risk feeling better and then maybe feeling worse - instead, they prefer being... OK. OK sounds steady, predictable, safe. For us, the ones in our forties, all the baggage, the misfortunes, the suitcases filled with frustration, anger and mistrust, all that makes us full of drama, untouchable, secured by a self-built wall called solitude - the pleasure of being me for myself, blind to wrongdoings. Days ago I was told that I am named after a German little flower, pinkish, kindish, low-profile. For some reason it became the protagonist of a beautiful song soldiers sang to their ladies back home during the war - honestly, less beers would have helped me remember the very interesting details in between, but cheers to us, who only live once ;). My mother told me she named me after the main character of a novel she had once read; sadly enough, there are no memories left besides the name itself. Regardless of the origin, the whereabouts and geographical coordinates which have brought me to this world, that is exactly what I was supposed to be called. I needed a short, universal and practical name that could take my misplaced soul to epic worlds and their layered dresses, their veils, their secret dilemas and desires, their jewels and long braids, their princes, kings, duels and songs and odes to impossible, enchanted, promised and exultant love stories... their curses, their karma - coincidence or circunstance? All I know is my tale would go like this: Invited to the ball more than once, she knows the whole dance by heart - courteous smiles, bows, glances and vows... midnight has long passed as she walks by with both crystal shoes swinging in her fingertips - no footprints left behind. Another night turns to day, a new path opens up along the way - not ordinary, not necessary: real, way far from OK.

“When old age shall this generation waste,          

Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe

Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say’st,

“Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all

 Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.” (Keats)