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Nashlah/Female/16-20. Lives in Brazil/São Paulo/São Paulo, speaks English and Portuguese. Eye color is hazel. I am also creative. My interests are Movies.

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(800x600). © 2004 Nashlah.

 

  Friday, June 25, 2004

'Backward, Turn Backward, O Time, In Your Flight, Make Me a Child Again, Just For To-night! -Elizabeth Chase Akers


had a busy day yesterday. Not that anything profitable was accomplished at the material end of the word, but I got to see family - I guess that's valuable even when ya have a broken down family like mine. We (mom and I) went to my "uncle's" office, and I say "uncle" cuz he's actually my mom's uncle not mine, but I still call him uncle. He's a really nice guy. Very active person in his mid sixties, something I admire. He goes to his office everyday, even though he's already retired. I guess the idea of no longer working doesn't enter his mind, which is why he goes to his office everyday, even if all he has to do is read the papers and check his email (wow he checks his email!). He's very funny, sarcastic to the most... reads the paper everyday... starts out reading the obituary list to see who's gone and then to the 'bankruptcy' list to see who's going next hahaha!

Later that day we went and visited grandma (his sister, my mom's mom). She was happy to see us, but wasn't able to contain herself and shed a few tears. That made me sad, for whatever reason I feel sorry for her... I shouldn't.

Saturday we're gonna go visit my grandpa. - Dang today it felt like being old sucks! I so wanna be very very very active when I'm 'falling apart' old! Jeeez...

Ele não queria saber se todos o observavam. Sua preocupação maior era em se equilibrar e pronunciar aquelas palavras tortas que ele gritava. Pessoas ao seu redor pouco se importavam com o seu possível desconforto com tantos olhares em cima dele... Tudo bem, ele estava fora de si. Descontrolado. Seu desespero inoportuno trazia a tona risadas da 'platéia' (aquela com uma curiosidade mórbida super apurada). - Seus cabelos no peito expostos por uma camisa rasgada e imunda, faziam ressaltar sua pobreza. Aquela barriga gigante deformada pela bebida, e a sola grossa e preta do pé naquela sandália havaiana que um dia foi branca me reviravam o estômago. No entanto, assim como os outros não conseguia tirar meus olhos dele... Não entendia o porque daquele chapéu de palha milimétricamente colocado em sua frente. Também não compreendia a angustia que nele habitava... - Derrepente o farol se abriu e aos poucos me esquecia das inúmeras perguntas que circundavam em minha mente... Fui me distanciando... Apenas para deixar estampado em minha mente a memória de um velho mendigo bêbado, que ao sentar em uma cadeirinha no meio da avenida gritava descontroladamente, "me mata! Me mata!".

 


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