No País das Maravilhas

(pequeno intervalo nos caretos, caretas e outras caras bonitas... com convidado especial)

"(...)
The chief difficulty Alice found at first was in managing her flamingo: she succeeded in getting its body tucked away, comfortably enough, under her arm, with its legs hanging down, but generally, just as she had got its neck nicely straightened out, and was going to give the hedgehog a blow with its head, it would twist itself round and look up in her face, with such a puzzled expression that she could not help bursting out laughing; and when she had got its head down, and was going to begin again, it was very provoking to find that the hedgehog had unrolled itself, and was in the act of crawling away (...) and, as the doubled-up soldiers were always getting up and walking off to other parts of the ground, Alice soon came to the conclusion that it was a very difficult game indeed."

Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

Máscaras, caretos, caretas e gente bonita 12

____________________________________________

Máscaras, caretos, caretas e gente bonita 11

______________________________________________

Máscaras, caretos, caretas e gente bonita 10

__________________________________________

Máscaras, caretos, caretas e gente bonita 9

____________________________________________

Máscaras, caretos, caretas e gente bonita 8

________________________________________

Máscaras, caretos, caretas e gente bonita 7

_____________________________________________

Máscaras, caretos, caretas e gente bonita 6

____________________________________________

Máscaras, caretos, caretas e gente bonita 5

_______________________________________

Máscaras, caretos, caretas e gente bonita 4

____________________________________________

Máscaras, caretos, caretas e gente bonita 3

____________________________________________

Máscaras, caretos, caretas e gente bonita 2

____________________________________________

Máscaras, caretos, caretas e gente bonita 1

__________________________________________

Et in Arcadia Ego

"Oxford, in those days, was still a city of aquatint. In her spacious and quiet streets men walked and spoke as they had done in Newman's day; her autumnal mists, her grey springtime and the rare glory of her summer days - such as that day - when the chestnut was in flower and the bells rang out high and clear over her gables and cupolas, exhaled the soft airs of centuries of youth. It was this cloistral hush wich gave our laughter ist resonance, and carried it still, joyously, over the intervening clamor."

"The bells of St. Mary's were chiming nine; we escaped collision with a clergyman, black-straw-hatted, white-bearded, pedaling quietly down the wrong side of the High Street, crossed Carfax, passed the station, and were soon in open country on the Botley Road; open country was easily reached in those days."

Evelyn Waugh, Brideshead Revisited

... eu sobrevivi ...

Era primavera, eu liguei pra ela, pra falar das belas flores que eu comprei

sem nenhum apreço, perdi o endereço, já nem sei o preço que eu ali paguei

mesmo assim perdido, um pouco aturdido, ali estarrecido a ela entreguei

e saí sozinho, pelo meu caminho, lembrando o carinho que eu não ganhei.

era um outono, eu no abandono, não me via dono da minha alegria

fiz um julgamento, no meu pensamento, que outra vez sedento eu não mais seria

eu saí pra fora, o coração agora, não contava a hora, da noite e do dia

como a moinha, espalhada sozinha, e em cada folhinha que no chão caía.

chegou o verão, o meu coração, teve a sensação de querer voar

naquela aventura, deixar toda agrura, e de alma pura o mundo ganhar

fiz minha bagagem, comprei uma passagem, no mundo selvagem eu fui me lançar

mas deu tudo errado, eu fiquei de lado, e agora parado sem saber voltar.

enfim, este inverno, que parece eterno, não me dá um terno para me vestir

tô na beira rio, com fome e com frio, meu fone sumiu e eu não mais vi

quero ir embora, me levar pra fora, mas não vejo agora razão de existir

não aos olhos teus, sim as mãos de Deus, nos sentidos meus... eu sobrevivi.

Poema de Ezhequiel Águia Queiróz

______________________________________________