Mortes

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O fato de que certas coisas em mim morrem não me faz triste. Certas coisas em mim morrem para dar lugar a outras mais intensas, mais profundas. Sei que estou crescendo, sei que estou a desenhar dentro e fora de mim um futuro e presente melhores. Por isso me renovo e morrem as coisas, lenta e rapidamente, cheias de dores – algumas, não todas – e se esvaem num céu de maio.

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