As palavras soltas de hoje falam sobre a dona Evangelina Benjamina. A dona Evangelina Benjamina é uma senhora baixinha que veste uma saia mais comprida do que as suas pernas. Uma saia que esconde todos os seus pelos por remover. Uma saia que lhe esconde as vergonhas e rebuçados nos bolsos. Rebuçados de mel já derretidos e colados, os quais costuma dar aos bisnetos quando eles lhe pedem um doce. Ou, simplesmente, porque lhe apetece dar. A dona Evangelina Benjamina é uma senhora pequenina que usa bigode durante todo o ano e não o esconde. Secretamente, guarda em cada pelo muitas das suas histórias de sabores e dissabores. Quantas vezes a sua boca, agora enrugada, beijou a sua colher de pau para saborear o gosto escondido, secretamente criado, dos seus cozinhados. Aqueles seus cozinhados que não se consegue provar em lugar nenhum. A dona Evangelina Benjamina conta aos seus bisnetos as suas aventuras de menina. Apesar de todas as suas rugas quererem esconder que já fora uma menina, é possível encontrar a menina que fora na profundidade do seu olhar. Olhos cor de mel, adocicados pela sua ternura de menina, azedados pelas suas lutas diárias na terra, e não só. A dona Evangelina Benjamina dá abraços com cheiro a peixe e beijos repenicados com sabor a mar. Com sabor a muito mar! A sua pele, queimada pelo sol, conta os anos que passou a cavar e a lavrar a terra. E há quem diga que nunca lhe viram cair uma lágrima dos seus olhos, agora, semicerrados. Eu tenho a certeza de que as suas lágrimas são gotas de oceano com cardumes e corais. O seu sorriso envergonhado, ou com medo de perder o que ainda lhe resta de dentição, vai dando alento às suas amigas da sua geração. E a algumas mais novas. A dona Evangelina Benjamina caminha devagar por causa das suas artroses e usa uma bengala como apoio. Uma bengala já gasta em tons de castanho para contrastar com as suas vestes de luto. Luto fechado. A sua "bengala" de outros tempos já partira, ainda jovem, e deixara-a com 6 filhos para criar. E, sozinha, ela criou-os. Estudaram. Casaram. Tiveram filhos, os quais já tiveram mais filhos. A sua família cresceu com o seu esforço de mãe e pai. Parabéns a todas as dona Evangelina Benjamina do mundo. Bem, mas estas já são outras palavras soltas. Ana Reis
Today my words talk about Mrs. Evangelina Benjamina. Mrs.Evangelina Benjamina is a short lady who wears a skirt that is longer than her legs. A skirt that hides all her not removed hairs. A skirt that hides her "shame" and candies in its pockets. Honeybees candies already melted and glued, which she gives to her great-grandchildren when they ask for a candy. Or simply because she just wants to give it. Mrs. Evangelina Benjamina is a small lady who wears a mustache all year and doesn't try to hide it. Secretly, she keeps in each hair of her mustache many of her stories of flavors and dislikes. How many times had her now wrinkled mouth kissed her wooden spoon to taste the secretly created hidden taste of her food. That food that you can't taste anywhere. Mrs. Evangelina Benjamina tells her great-grandchildren stories about her adventures as a girl. Although all her wrinkles want to hide that she was a girl before, it is possible to find the girl that she was deep in her eyes. Honey-colored eyes, sweetened by her girlish tenderness, soured by her daily struggles on earth, and beyond. Mrs. Evangelina Benjamina gives fish-like hugs and wet kisses with sea flavor. With too much sea flavor! Her skin, burned by the sun, tells stories about the years she began to dig and plow the earth. And some people say that they have never seen a tear fall from her eyes half closed by the years. I am sure that her tears are ocean drops with shoals and corals. Her embarrassed smile, or fear of losing what is left of her teething, is giving encouragement to her friends of her generation. And to some younger ones. Mrs. Evangelina Benjamina walks slowly because of her arthroses and uses a cane for her support. A cane older made in brown wood to contrast with her mourning robes. Her old "cane" had already left, still young, and left her with six children to raise. And, by herself, she raised them. They studied. They got married. They had children, who already had more children. Her family grew up with her mother and father effort. Congratulations to all the Mrs. Evangelina Benjamina in the world. Well, but these are already another kind of words. Ana Reis
Today my words talk about Mrs. Evangelina Benjamina. Mrs.Evangelina Benjamina is a short lady who wears a skirt that is longer than her legs. A skirt that hides all her not removed hairs. A skirt that hides her "shame" and candies in its pockets. Honeybees candies already melted and glued, which she gives to her great-grandchildren when they ask for a candy. Or simply because she just wants to give it. Mrs. Evangelina Benjamina is a small lady who wears a mustache all year and doesn't try to hide it. Secretly, she keeps in each hair of her mustache many of her stories of flavors and dislikes. How many times had her now wrinkled mouth kissed her wooden spoon to taste the secretly created hidden taste of her food. That food that you can't taste anywhere. Mrs. Evangelina Benjamina tells her great-grandchildren stories about her adventures as a girl. Although all her wrinkles want to hide that she was a girl before, it is possible to find the girl that she was deep in her eyes. Honey-colored eyes, sweetened by her girlish tenderness, soured by her daily struggles on earth, and beyond. Mrs. Evangelina Benjamina gives fish-like hugs and wet kisses with sea flavor. With too much sea flavor! Her skin, burned by the sun, tells stories about the years she began to dig and plow the earth. And some people say that they have never seen a tear fall from her eyes half closed by the years. I am sure that her tears are ocean drops with shoals and corals. Her embarrassed smile, or fear of losing what is left of her teething, is giving encouragement to her friends of her generation. And to some younger ones. Mrs. Evangelina Benjamina walks slowly because of her arthroses and uses a cane for her support. A cane older made in brown wood to contrast with her mourning robes. Her old "cane" had already left, still young, and left her with six children to raise. And, by herself, she raised them. They studied. They got married. They had children, who already had more children. Her family grew up with her mother and father effort. Congratulations to all the Mrs. Evangelina Benjamina in the world. Well, but these are already another kind of words. Ana Reis
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