Inner Babel / Babel Interior

Schopenhauer says to live is to climb a mountain and when you see what is waiting for you on the other side of the mountain too early in life, you can never climb it the same way. I saw what was on the other side and decided I was simply not climbing that mountain anymore, unless pushed the way up. You wouldn’t realize that just by looking at me then. You wouldn’t see that I had quit. I would wake up, take showers, eat (actually there would be a lot of eating), go to work, do whatever obligation I was supposed to. I would even go out with friends or family. But if you looked really closer, you would realize I was only automatically responding to demands, except for the food. Food became my only source of pleasure. How was all the rest performed? At work, if there were tasks and deadlines, I’d do them, using no more than the basic skills required.   As to my social life, it rested on the plans of others. They would say when and where to go. They would pick me up and bring me ho...

She collected eyes. They fascinated her since she was little. Her mom used to tell that, still a baby, she tried to touch her eyes with her little fingers. She touched her eyelashes, felt them delicately and, at times, pulled them; which would put an end to the game. Another childhood story she was told preannounced her future interest. She used to remain for minutes looking at people’s faces, blinking when they blinked, moving her eyes to accompany the other’s movement.     When a child, she would cut eyes from  magazines and glue them in countless notebooks. She was interested in their colors, shapes. As she grew older, other nuances began calling her attention. When she was young she was given a photographic camera. The new tool provided her with different possibilities. She began to focus not only on eyes, but on the way they looked, the expressions of joy, surprise, fear and pain; the reflections of light and the reactions to different stimuli. The powerful...

Eu tenho pensamentos horríveis Eu praguejo Eu desejo o mal Eu minto Eu tenho urgências terríveis Eu deito languidamente em sonhos de luxuria Eu lá permaneço Em verdes, cinzas e castanhas fantasias Eu vivo o lado escuro da lua Eu sou o lado escuro da lua Eu ofego Não respiro Eu tomo café Eu procrastino Eu tento Eu me esforço Eu sinto falta da luz. Eu vivo o lado escuro da lua. Eu sou o lado escuro da lua.

I have horrible thoughts, I curse, I wish people ill, I lie, I feel terrible urges. I Iay languidly on dreams of lust. I linger, In green, gray and brown fantasies. I live the dark side of the moon. I am the dark side of the moon. I gasp, I cannot breathe. I drink coffee,  I procrastinate. I try, I strive, I miss the light, I live the dark side of the moon. I am the dark side of the moon.

Once she had fallen on that turn. She was riding a moped. The boys from school had somehow messed it up. They had removed the pipe and the gas just didn’t pass through. She tried to turn the bike on a couple times, aware that there had been a sort of sabotage. Very irritated, she kept an exterior calmness, while the boy approached and showed her in five seconds what the problem was. She thanked him and left. “What a stupid way to flirt!” She proceeded with her afternoon ride, good school times, the wind on her face, the postponed obligations, dinner waiting on the table, all the time in the world… The moped failed a couple times, she had to break it and speed it up at the same time to keep it going. In one of these attempts, on the curve, she skidded! The moped slipped to one side while she slid to the other in a 45-degree angle. She stood up, covered by the red dirt of Brasília, bruised, hurt. She picked up the moped and carried it, limping, to the last house of the street. She w...

Uma vez caíra naquela curva. Andava de mobilete. Os garotos da escola mexeram nela, tiraram o cachimbo e o combustível não passava. Tentou ligar a motinho umas tantas vezes, consciente de ter havido algum tipo de sabotagem. Muito irritada, manteve a calma, quando o garoto se aproximou para ajudar e apontou, em cinco segundos, o defeito. Agradeceu para se ver livre e foi embora. "Paquera mais idiota!" Continuou o passeio vespertino, bons tempos de colégio, o vento no rosto, as obrigações adiadas, o jantar na mesa, todo o tempo do mundo... A mobilete, falhando de vez em quando, tinha que frear e manter a aceleração ao mesmo tempo. Numa dessas, na curva, derrapou! Mobilete deslizou para um lado e ela para o outro em um eixo de 45 graus. Levantou-se, suja da terra vermelha de Brasília, ralada, machucada, pegou a mobilete e conduziu-a andando, capengando, até a última casa da rua. Já não era mais uma menina, tinha suas responsabilidades, trabalho, contas, problemas... Desceu ...