Me pergunto em qual dessas noites tera sido. Um ciclo todo vivido em alguns meses. Cinco semanas. Faz pouco me dizias que havias sonhado em estar assim. Ter uma vida mais estabilizada e viver um grande amor. Mas tuas palavras eram secas. Folhas de um inverno lento e distante. Estavamos perto da praia, a poucos minutos de realizar o sonho de nadar de madrugada no Atlantico. E o Atlantico nos acolheu tranquilo e morno. Com silencio e certeza.
To Someone
The architecture of the city is plural and restless. Your voice comes and goes. The sky was pale blue today. White here and there. Clouds. Whispers. Our dialog is more vivid now. I still see how intense your eyes are. You come and go from me. But I know you never really leave. At least, that is the illusion that keeps me - going? I see patterns. They make sense. Like you made sense a while ago. I can't reason with Love, can I? Love, this palpable, irrational measurement of attachment and desire. I don't know if you are the same anymore. The same I knew. Did I ever know you? It doesn't matter because you fit like a symptom fits a disease. You fit my fantasy. My fantasy was so concrete and so tangible. I play us in my head. If I had. If you had. But history doesn't rewrite itself. I can't walk down the street to try and find you. Unchanged sea. Under the same sheltering sky. I love you.
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