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Grandma, don’t you get tired of cooking? What else can I do, honey? I like cooking, it passes the time, and life, and at least we’re eating, and you know, people talk less when their mouths are full. And when their tummies are full, they spend less time thinking about nonsense. You’re too skinny, sweetie, you should eat more and think less.
“We’ve only just started. Be patient.” “We’ve only just started this time, though. Right, Caetano? How many times have I been here, how many will I come back?” “As many as you need.” “Neither of us will ever know.” “Of course not, but we’ll keep on trying. Isn’t that what life is? A series of trials?”
“No. My language. It’s chaotic, it comes from inside me, from a part of me that’s still wild. A part I don’t understand. I can’t grasp what I’m feeling.
I wanted to be able to do that, to immerse myself in some dark corner of my life only to surface at the other, brighter end of it.
There was no easy way about it. I would’ve deep dived into my own hell to reach the other, brighter end of my life, the warm center of the person I wanted to be.
It’s all very low key, though, and we’ve got these jokes we can’t share with other people, because they’re more weird than they are funny, but it’s the weird stuff that brings people closer together.
her hands just don’t know silence.
Two old women live there, in that house. They’ve been living there for years, those two old women. There’s something about those two old women who’ve been living there together for years. There, in the house of those two odd old women. We’re two odd old women, Marília and I.
After being in convent together for fifteen years, they decided to leave and bought a town house in the interior of Garibaldi, Rio Grande do Sul, where they began a new life together.
what I’m concerned with is creating love in the space of this distance, which, today, the rain has kept from shrinking.
Tomorrow will be December, then it’ll be a new year, then in September it will rain again, and I will be alone. I feel like sinking into water to cure myself of the love I don’t have and to keep from feeling nostalgic for something that doesn’t exist.
