Tag Archive: chronic

The Marble

But it had of if keeping calm, although the situation, after all not it had another alternative. The worse one was bafo of it. It seemed to have drunk all the types of drink of the world at the same time. The oxygen inside already was scarce there. Now it puts in charge itself to add plus other harmful gases, beyond carbonic gas.

Now he perceived clearly that all those people were completely doped and only the still sober one in that room was it. At least until that moment, therefore he had the sensation that when continuing those whispers that passed for the opening, would faint for over dose ' ' great chefe' ' if he moves away, leaving to it at last to breathe a little. While it perceives, through the mirror, it if moving, its nose close to the opening being able arrives more to breathe little of oxygen that still remained in that hall. The cursed tambores again start to touch. But now much more strong. The drinks were starting to make effect.

(To it, those figures did not pass of ones vitiated that they would come of 15 in 15 years to London to be doped with the excuse to homage fara). The men start to encircle and to dance in return of sarcfago again. Always beating with its feet in the floor that made to tremble all probably all the room and the museum. Sarcfago arrived if to move on of the marble structure. What more it distressed to it was not to know when that ritual would go to finish. After some time, one again ceases the instruments and the dance. That previous silence comes back to dominate the environment. The priest comes back again. If it lowers, and for its relief, of this time does not whisper more. He notices that it now is without masks (although Migrantino to find that it was well better with the mask).


MOTHER Today, while it played some domestic tasks, I was conjeturando on the cycles of our life. It has some years behind, with my small children, I still I felt myself very unsafe in the mother paper, because until there, only what I wise person was to be son. Until it found strange very when they called me to the children mother. – Mother! But where she was the mother? She seems that this was not my paper. She will be that my mother if felt thus some day? Therefore since I knew that it, it already was eternalized in its paper of mother. Today, with my grown children, already I got used with the mother place. I concluded that they are the children who acquire knowledge in them of this, with that insistence in calling in them mother, with the constant requirements of our attention, they shelter in them to play the mother role and suddenly in we give account to them that we are in feeling ' ' the Me' '. Such which age our mother, with all the patience and overload that this function in subjects.

Only of the one pontadinha of unreliability when thinking, now that mine children are young, I are one of the strong columns of the home, are heard, obeyed, I that I have the reins of the situation, at last, are the main personage of my history. But the implacable cycle of the life in them will hit with the reality daqui to some years when to start in only giving secondary papers to them, later will be only figurantes, even definitively taking off in them of scene. Then it will be the time of my son to learn to play the mother role. there, then, will have importance the form as I played my role. If I left good examples when I was mother, if the home that I created had structure enough my offspring to use as model when to create the home of them. I wait that the day that I will be only the souvenir of the Mother, it is good, tender, example