Como

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Como seria possivel estar assim? Entregue as maos do acaso por tanto tempo. Entregue ao dissabor de ser?! Faziam-lhe falta as maos da mae, as maos que nao foram, mas que cumpriam o destino de existir. Agora, faltam. Faltam. Faltam. E chove, chuva grossa e pesada no asfalto vizinho. E noite, o lago esta agitado. O gato nao sabe o que fazer. Ela dirige e sente o corpo ir-se. Estamos nos movendo contra. Seu corpo era fragil palha recolhida por maos grosseiras num lugar distante onde certa vez uma filha de imigrantes, sob o sol escaldante, sentiu a dor de ser. Doia ser bonita. Nasceria-lhe entao um filho (renegado) da beleza. E desde entao ela conheceu dores e inquietou-se pela maldade humana tao cortante, tao amarga.

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