Villerita

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Saudade.

E então era que a cidade era cinza, um cinza pesado. Mas o que ofuscava mesmo a sua visão era o choro. Aquele choro silencioso. E ela pensava em mais esse dia de villerita. Mais essa estrada que teria que atravessar. Ben Harper lhe falava de estar só sem sentir-se solitária, o outro Ben lhe falava de estrelas nos olhos, de ir-se, de dançar. E ela pensava em Saudade de Julieta Venegas e na Bahía, que ainda não conhecia. Queria perder-se por lá. No calor, na dança, no místico. Tantos mistérios por desvendar. Desvendar lhe parecia uma palavra interessante. Tirar o véu, deixar-se ver. Desnudar-se diante de possibilidades.

Tic. Tic. Tic. Tac. Tac. Tac.

Experimentar. Deixar o perímetro conhecido.
Sair do seu casulo. Virar anêmona. Essa foi uma das coisas mais lindas que já ouviu. Fechava os olhos e queria que fosse verdade. Que ele estivesse sendo sincero. Ou será que o que ela realmente queria era ser anêmona?!?!

Sempre se sentiu cavalo-marinho. E agora ele vinha cheio de certeza dizer-lhe que a encontrava anêmona.

Nos devora o tempo? A saudade? O mundano? Nos pesam as faltas? O caos? As guerras?

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