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Nariz de cera

anotações e apontamentos que dizem tudo - de, por e para mim - por si mesmos.

Nariz de cera

anotações e apontamentos que dizem tudo - de, por e para mim - por si mesmos.

as memórias do esquecimento

03.12.24

[...] her mother lay with her gray hair - what was left of it - sticking out on the pillow, and she was a tiny as a person could be and still be alive. It was as though her mother had been in a science fiction movie and that her body - her essence - had been snatched. When her mother's eyes flipped open, Suzanne had said, "It's me, Mom, Suzanne," and her mother had sat up and said, "Hello." And when Suzanne repeated to her, "Mom, it's me, your daughter," her mother said pleasantly, "No, my daughter is dead." Then her mother had sung a lullaby as she rocked Snuggles, and she was still doing that when Suzanne left.

Now, as Suzanne entered the room, she had to walk by another woman seated in a wheelchair not far from her mother; [...]

Her mother sat serenely in her wheelchair in the corner of her room, with Snuggles on her lap. Her hair had been combed, and she wore a sweatsuit of pale off-white, on her feet were clean white sneakers. "Hello," she said to Suzanne. "You're a pretty woman. Who are you?"

"I'm your daughter, Mom. It's me, Suzanne."

Her mother said politely, "I don't have a daughter. She died. But when she was a little girl, she had this." And her mother held up Snuggles. "His name is Snuggles," her mother said.

"Mom, you remember this was Snuggles?" Suzanne leaned down toward her mother.

"I don't know who you are," her mother continued, "but my poor little daughter. She was always such a good girl." [...]

"But her brother!" And her mother laughed then. "Oh, her brother was a nasty little boy." [...]

Chills ran down Suzanne's side [...] "Doyle?" she finally asked.

Her mother's face remained uncomprehending, until suddenly it became twisted in fury. "You get out of here right now! Get out! Get out!" Spittle flew from her mouth.

And then the other woman seated in her wheelchair began to cry. It was a terrible sound [...] Suzanne stood up [...] "Help me, please," she said to an aide going by. "I've upset my mother and also some woman who was in here [...]

The aide was a small young woman, with no expression on her face, and she said to Suzanne, "I'll be there in a minute."

"Please come in now," said Suzanne, but the aide was already going into the room next door. "Oh God," said Suzanne. She went back into her mother's room [...] and her mother was half standing out of her chair. She pointed her arm at Suzanne. "You! Get out of here right now!"

 

Elizabeth Strout – Olive, Again (2019)
Penguin Random House UK (2019)

 

 

dissecados sem alma

26.11.24

"Henry believed in God," Olive typed one day. Then she added, "So did I because of the frogs we dissected in biology class." She remembered how in college she had thought one day, looking at the inside of a frog: There must be a God who made all these things [...]"

 

Elizabeth Strout – Olive, Again (2019)
Penguin Random House UK (2019)

 

imagem créditos https://www.chappatte.com/en/images/new-world-order

 

Massacre do Zong

29.11.23

When Roger had first come to Bernie for legal advice, it had been about investments made in South Africa; he needed a loophole, which he had already figured out, and Bernie had advised him. Bernie had said to him that day, "But I don't like this, Roger," and Roger had just smiled at him and said, "You're my legal adviser, Bernie, not my priest."

 

Elizabeth Strout – Olive, Again (2019)
Penguin Random House UK (2019)

 

Slave-ship.jpgThe Slave Ship (1840)

J. M. W. Turner

 

Turner thus exhibited his painting during the anti-slavery conference, and placed next to the picture his untitled poem, written in 1812:

“Aloft all hands, strike the top-masts and belay;
Yon angry setting sun and fierce-edged clouds
Declare the Typhon’s coming.
Before it sweeps your decks, throw overboard
The dead and dying – ne’er heed their chains
Hope, Hope, fallacious Hope!
Where is thy market now?”
– J. M. W. Turner

in https://joyofmuseums.com/museums/united-states-of-america/boston-museums/museum-of-fine-arts-boston/the-slave-ship-by-j-m-w-turner/ 

 

 

childhood

17.10.23

Amy loved her mother, but she was not close to her. The things that happen in childhood do not go away.

"I love my grandson," Isabelle was saying. "Oh, I do, but he's not really a part of my life."

 

Elizabeth Strout – Olive, Again (2019)
Penguin Random House UK (2019)

 

 

província retangular

04.10.23

So when I got back and saw that he was so sorry, I told him that, the business about this being a class thing, very calmly, and do you know? We must have talked for two hours straight, we just talked and talked, and he said he was kind of a peasant too, and that's why he was so sensitive about people being provincial, because all his life he had deep down felt provincial, and he didn't want to be. He said, I'm a snob Olive, and I'm not proud of that. 

Elizabeth Strout – Olive, Again (2019)
Penguin Random House UK (2019)

Clero, Nobreza e Povo, Vila Velha do Cu de Judas
Cartoon de João Abel Manta, Lisboa, 1970 (c.), Portugal.

in https://www.arquipelagos.pt/imagem/clero-nobreza-e-povo-vila-velha-do-cu-de-judas-cartoon-de-joao-abel-manta-1970-c-portugal/

 

reverse

20.09.23

Olive was furious. "I don't fly first-class," she said.

Jack had laughed. "You don't fly anywhere," he said, and that made her angrier.

"I'm not flying first-class. It's obscene."

"Obscene?" Jack sat down at the kitchen table and watched her, still with amusement in his face. "I like obscene." When she didn't answer him he said, "You know what, Olive? You're a snob."

"I'm the opposite of a snob."

Jack laughed a long time. "You think being a reverse snob is not being a snob? Olive, you're a snob." Then he leaned forward and said, "Oh come on, Olive. For Christ's sake. I'm seventy-eight years old, I have money, you have money - though, yes 

 

Elizabeth Strout – Olive, Again (2019)
Penguin Random House UK (2019)

 

 

ser verdade

14.09.23

"But I haven't had it for a few years, and so I wonder: Did I make it up? But I know I didn't, Bernie [...] But whenever someone says they're an atheist, I always privately have this bad reaction, and they give all the obvious reasons, you know, kids get cancer, earthquakes kill people, all that kind of stuff. But when I hear them, I think: But you are barking up the wrong tree."

 

Elizabeth Strout – Olive, Again (2019)
Penguin Random House UK (2019)

 

Oak Trees
R. Ellison

 

fuga

02.08.23

" [...] Have a cry like you've never had in your life. And when you're done, get yourself something to eat. I bet you haven't eaten a thing all day."

"You're right, I haven't. And I will eat something, I promise. But I don't feel like crying anymore, Bernie. I feel... I feel like I could practically sing."

"Then do that," he said.

 

Elizabeth Strout – Olive, Again (2019)
Penguin Random House UK (2019)