CAIO FERNANDO ABREU - small epiphanies few days ago, God-or what we call well, so carelessly, God sent me a gift ambiguous: a possibility of love. Or what we call, also with some carelessness and hurry love. And you know what I mean.
Before I could scare me, and after the shock, doubt whether or not to go, want to or not, I was already there. And being inside was good. Do not get me wrong-there was no privacy that probably imagine. In fact, there was almost nothing. Two or three lunches, a few silence. Fragments of what we call, with that same carelessness, "my life." Other fragments of this "other life." Suddenly cross there, pure mystery, white tablecloths and wine glasses or water, including bread crumbs and ashtrays filled to the waiters quickly emptied to make us feel clean. And we felt.
Behind what was happening, I rediscovered magic without any scare. And suddenly I felt protected, you know how: a lifetime, those unconnected bits, otherwise armed themselves with respect. Nothing bad would happen, I was sure, while the magnetic field was within that other person. The other person's eyes looking at me and recognized me as another person, and gently asking questions, investigating areas: ah, do not eat sugar, ah do not drink whiskey, oh you of the sign Libra. Tracing outlines the two. And traits diffuse vague promises.
never leave the center of that space to the mean streets anonymous. Never again leave that warm lap it is to have a face to another person who also has a face for one, amid the tangle of no importance and face each day without clogging the heart. But the fourth, fifth day, a tale of obsessive fragment Clarice Lispector-Temptation-head charm stunned: "But both were engaged. He, with his pinched nature. She, with her children impossible." I quote from memory, I do not know if it is correct. Talk of the meeting of a red-haired girl, sitting on a step at three in the afternoon, with a basset also red, which is secured on a leash. He stops. The two look. Glow, as promised. The owner draws him to her. He leaves. Nothing happens.
Also, I did not. Would need to create climates, insinuating invitations, serve wine, light candles, make faces. To hear maybe not. Unless both wind blowing sail alone. Did not sail. Besides that, without realizing it, I was in the solitary study of the non-call. Recently I got it days later when a friend told me, casually, too-small epiphanies. Petite, almost petty revelations from God like jewels embedded in the everyday.
Was that, that other life, unexpectedly mixed with mine, I looked at my dull life with the same watchful eyes that I watched, a small epiphany. Then came the time, distance, dust. But I brought from beyond the memory of something soft that has been my food in the days following the absence and hunger. Especially at night, especially on Sundays. Smoking recovered form the windows watching, seeing what anyone would.
Behind the windows, I return to that moment of honey and blood that God was so short and so delicately in front of my eyes unable to see for so long: a possibility of love. Bow my head in gratitude. And if you reach out, in the dust that is within me, I can play well otherwise. That little epiphany. With body and face. You replace slowly, bit by bit, when I'm alone and I have fear. I smile, then. And almost stop feeling hungry.
butterfly 
