Às vezes, encontro-me nas palavras dos outros. Mais raramente, nas minhas.
Por pura coincidência. Em pura coincidência.
2 de março de 2006
Edgar Bowers (1924-2000)
Of you I have no memory, keep no promise. But, as I read, drink, wait, and watch the surf, Faithful, almost forgotton, your demand Becomes all others, and this loneliness The need that is your presence. In the dark, Beneath the lamp, attentive, like a sound I listen for, you draw near -- closer, surer Than speech, or sight, or love, or love returned.