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Para Talytta

Minha amiga me deu um marcador de livro em forma de borboleta. Carrego agora, comigo, para onde vou. Vejo o sorriso da amiga que se foi, sempre que fecho os olhos. Em sonho, ouço sua voz que também sorria. Era boa, minha amiga. Tão boa, que minha alma desconfiada, duvidou em princípio de tanta bondade. Era suave. Ria das minhas fúrias. E, sei lá porque, dizia me admirar. Minha amiga está hoje no lago em que nado. Outro amigo disse: "Agora você vai nadar com ela", e me fez um carinho. Tenho bons amigos. Minha amiga me viu perder um filho. Hoje vejo seu filho perder a mãe. A minha dor e a perda dele, a minha perda e a sua dor. 

Estava feliz, a minha amiga. A vida começando, os sonhos caminhando. Da última vez que nos falamos, o calor, a praia, o mar... Tinha o mar para amenizar. Há poucas semanas pensara, quando formos a praia será ainda melhor. Sua família, minha família, na praia, as crianças correndo, castelos de areia, alegria e paz. Ao saber da minha amiga, fiquei braba, comigo. Não estava lá, não segurei sua mão, não lhe disse que ela podia também ficar braba, se quisesse, não arrumei seu travesseiro, não molhei seus lábios, não amenizei sua sede. Eu não estava lá. Parece que nunca estou lá. Mais tarde, a igreja, as elaborações, o consolo.  "Está melhor",  "Está com o Pai", eu murmurando: "Pare de levar meus amigos! Pare de levar meus amigos!" 

I'm mourning my friend, a frase me vem enquanto caminho meu caminho de todos os dias, meu caminho de borboletas, flores, folhas vivas e secas. Seu rosto em meu pensamento, seu sorriso, a borboleta saindo do livro que ainda não consegui ler. I'm missing my friend, saudade de nó na garganta, saudade de me deixar furiosa e de brigar com o mundo. "Pare de levar os meus amigos!" Ela ria das minhas brabezas, ela se divertia. Ela riria dessa história, de mim e diria algo que acalmaria minha raiva. Sem querer, ela diria. Era suave, minha amiga. O vento balança as folhas das árvores em frente ao escritório em que trabalho, suave. Eu vou nadar com você, minha amiga, e vou levar você comigo, sempre. 

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