Carmine bee-eaters

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No meu quarto havia um quadro imenso de uma japonesa caminhando sozinha sob a chuva fria de uma tarde de sábado. Na cozinha uma cafeteira antiga e um refrigerador que fazia barulho quando a porta se fechava. Na sala todas as poltronas mal organizadas e na sacada o vento. Era apenas isso que eu tinha. E sem querer ou suspeitar era refém de tudo aquilo. De todas as memórias que me voltavam quando caminhava no escuro. Quando estava sem ti.

Foto de um carmine bee-eater. Tirada do Google.

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