Uma dor e uma sinfonia

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Há espaços de tempo em que basta estar apaixonada pela vida. Mas seria muito mais intensa uma sinfonia.

Eu me pergunto se o tempo não haverá alterado tanto o sentido das palavras que hoje o que entendemos por uma coisa é na verdade uma outra verdade. Uma verdade completamente diferente e alheia a esta e a uma que virá.

Minhas células-silêncio gemem. E a luz plena do quarto se insinua para mim. O teto me parece uma forma de repressão. Sinto com os ouvidos que, no andar de cima, alguém caminha. Nervosamente. Sobre mim um tecido branco e macio me protege. Há um septo entre meu corpo e meus sentidos. Cessam os ruídos. O fogo se apaga. Adormeço tranqüila e feliz por estar desacordando do silêncio novo da casa.

Ainda quero amar.

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