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Volto a vida de criar. Criar algo bonito para olhos que nao conheco. Volto a escrever porque sangro. Esqueco a gramatica. Me torno um pouco mais pura por saber que me esperas em alguma parte.

Doi o corpo. A cabeca, os olhos. As costas. Tudo esta psicologicamente desfeito.
Ansio pelo que nao sei. Ansio por uma coisa que nem sei se existe. Quero fazer tudo ao mesmo tempo. Quero tomar um banho e dormir. Mas tambem quero continuar lutando. Organizando a casa, limpando. Sarando.

Tenho um amor novo e belo e que me sorri todas as manhas. E me beija e me toca como se eu fosse uma pequena boneca de porcelana.

Resgatei um cachorro da rua. E agora ele me reconhece. Me pede carinho. Me abraca. Sabe onde estou. Tem ciumes do Homem Misterioso. O homem com olhos amendoados, e coracao de menino...

Quero relembrar todas as nossas noites. Todos os nossos dias que foram nossos e que sao tao especiais.

Finalmente chegaste.

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