Georgia: traveling without moving

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Repara como meus olhos se abrem diante do mundo. Repara como se agigantam diante de tamanha alegria. Se inspiram. Meus olhos lacrimejam pela felicidade presente, pela esperança que se reestrutura. Repara como viajam minhas mãos e minhas asas não são brancas. Há cores em tudo que sou eu. Cor de sangue, cor azul, turquesa, lilás. Há em mim, verde. Azul. Cor-de-laranja. Roxo. Há em mim amarelo. Será Keiko um nome de uma cor que desconheces, que nos falta inventar? Será Keiko uma presença kaleidoscópica? Serei eu um kaleidoscópio que espera? Faço perguntas. Escrevo diante dessa efusiva nova possibilidade. Vais e vens. Te entrevejo na estrada. Compartilho contigo as melodias, a vontade de chegar, o persistir. Essa força quase bruta que nos faz ser assim: pequeno mundo de possibilidades, tentando habitar e ser. E pode que o que há de único em mim seja o que me leve até o que há de único em ti. E nossas uni-cidades se contentem e se respeitem. E por fim, quem sabe, algum dia, sem pressa, se amem.

Picture: E.S.

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