Bus-Stop

A bus-stop in the middle of the city. A big group of people is waiting for the bus, some people have to stay outside of the covered area! The sky is grey and the air feels wet. It starts raining and everybody squeezes into the covered area of the bus-stop and the ones who stay outside open their umbrellas, all except one man! He looks to a little kid, a blue eyed blond little 8 years old boy, on his mothers lap. The kid looks back to him with interest. The man, around 40/50 years, with a small black bear and long hair (not to long), reaches with arms down like he his opening an umbrella, but he has nothing on his hands!!! He lifts the right arm like he is holding an umbrella and a beam of light comes down, lighting a round space around the man! If you could see him you would see a crowd in the rain and one man on a spot of sunshine! If you could see him, but you can't! Only the little boy saw it, all the other people saw a man holding an umbrella and ignored it! The world is a magical place ... but you can only see it with a child's soul!!!

(sem titulo)

Uma cidade sem chão nem céu, os edificios estendem-se do infinito para o infinito. As pessoas caminham sem rosto, porque escondem os rostos em frascos de cristal, para que possam um dia mostar a alguem especial numa ocasião especial que nunca acontece! Com os rostos juntaram mais tarde um segundo frasco, onde esconderam as palavras! Um terceiro frasco apareceu sem o terem juntado, nesse depositaram-se os sentimentos.
Agora as pessoas caminham sem sentirem, pois de tanto se esconderem esconderam se dos próprios sentimentos!

Um mundo sem limites com pessoas que procuram aprisionar-se!

Mulher

(Porque há nomes que não se repetem, o nome mulher pertence a uma mulher da minha vida)


Quero que saibas que no futuro, em cada beijo que der em cad caricia minha e em cada palavra apaixonada, irá permanecer um suspiro de teu nome ... Para sempre eu, para sempre o teu nome ...
Porque há musicas que têm dono cujo nome ecoa nos nossos ouvidos, e nomes que não se esquecem. Porque há feridas que são a tatuagem de um nome e o reflexo duma dor , dum rosto espelhado num coração. No meu coração teu nome ...
Toda a lembrança de ti é um espelho partido e eu corto-me em cada pedaço, em cada estilhaço. sangro-me e sofro em ti.
Porque morro afogado no eterno lago de teus olhos, o ar que me resta griata teu nome ...
Jamais serás minha mas para sempre serei teu.
condenaste-me á alegria de um sofrimento e ao sofrimento de uma alegria.
Teu nome é me agora proíbido, sofrido mas nunca esquecido! Teu nome é agora ... Mulher
Para sempre teu nome ... Para sempre Mulher!


( a data em que escrevi isto ficou esquecida no tempo, pedida mas não esquecida como os nomes das Mulheres)

The Angel

Amy was an old retires prostitute. She still worked on the same house were she crashed when she was just 15, an old mansion in the suburbs of Paris "La petit maison". Amy choreographed the "dances" for the girls from the "maison" for 23 years, she was now 52 years old. That day was a different day for Amy. She went out of her room around 15:00 for her rehearsal with the "ladies", she was wearing the her best dress, a beautiful black dress that a more enthusiastic client offered her when she was 21. She would were that dress on a very special occasion, but today was just an ordinary day, a Tuesday, a usual slow day, and most of the times the "ladies" would not even perform. Amy respected those girls, she knew that no one was there because they wanted, all these girls were poor women that refused to surrender to death and sold their body and give up their respect, so they would get a roof and food! Those girls, like Amy, never knew love. Often abused, abandoned or forgotten by their parents these girls had no other option, and Amy knew it, so she respected them, she was one of them! Over the years most of the girls from the "maison" began to believe on their own lies about their life's! They often told the clients they were born in convents but fell in lust and found "la maison" like a paradise! Amy told them that story, just like some other older girl told her once, many years ago! But the truth is that the only relation to convent these girls had was the local priest that would sneak in on Monday evenings to spend the donations! After the rehearsal Amy said goodbye like to the girls like she always did: "goodbye my Angels", and the girls all replied by saying "goodbye Amy, see you tomorrow!". But the "angels" didn't see Amy on the next day or ever again, because Amy walked to the small balcony on her room, on the last floor of the "maison", smoked one last cigarette (Amy was an heavy smoker), opened her wings and flew away...

They say Angels are beautiful but Amy had long lost her beauty, they say they don't have any sex but Amy was more women then most women ever where, they say Angels have white wings made of feathers, but Amy's wings were made of black pieces of heavy cloth... They said Amy was a child of the Devil, but that night Amy flew away from "la petit maison" like an Angel!