As palavras soltas de hoje falam sobre raparigas. As raparigas dos dias que correm vivem uma idade inquieta. Vivem uma idade que mal terminou o dia é já alvorecer. Botão de rosa entreaberto. Tal como a teoria do copo de água. Será que está meio vazio ou meio cheio?! Tem dias que vivem recatadas. Outros há em que parecem galinhas estouvadas à procura de não sei o quê. Conjugam na mesma personagem gestos de loucura e de pudor. Têm comportamentos de criança e conversas de mulher. Nos braços trazem uma bíblia e um livro com poemas de amor. Caminham como se estivessem a desfilar olhando os espelhos que as rodeiam. Ou escondem-se entre as folhas de um jornal que vão lendo, ou fazendo de conta que o leem. As raparigas dos dias de hoje ouvem jazz e dançam Beyoncé. Estudam nos intervalos a anatomia dos rapazes que as rodeiam e passam as tardes fechadas nas bibliotecas. Trocam risinhos tímidos e dão gargalhadas que acordam as pessoas que dormem do outro lado da cidade. As raparigas de hoje concentram-se nas aulas, aprendem os verbos e conjugam-nos entre um piscar de olhos ao professor de português. Muitas vezes dão por si, nas aulas, a contar as estrelas que estão no teto da sala. Riem-se dos amores e choram os desamores. Riem-se dos desamores e choram os amores. Não se podem explicar nem, muito menos, entender. Na mulher encontra-se a rapariga e na rapariga encontra-se a mulher. Bem, mas estas já são outras palavras soltas. Ana Reis
Today my words talk about girls. Nowadays girls live in a restless age. They live in an age where the day has barely ended, it is already morning. Rose button trying to open itself. Just like the theory of a glass of water. Is it half empty or half full?! Some days they stay calm. And there are others that they look like mad chickens looking for something that anyone knows what. They conjugate in the same character gestures of madness and modesty. They have child behaviors and woman conversations. In their arms they bring a bible and a book with love poems. They walk as if they are supermodels looking at the mirrors that surround them. Or they hide their faces between the sheets of a newspaper that they pretend they are reading. Today's girls listen to jazz and dance to Beyoncé. They study the anatomy of the boys that walk around them and spend their afternoons in the libraries. They exchanged shy laughs and laugh too loud that they can wake up everyone who sleep on the other side of the town. Today's girls focus on their studies. They learn the verbs and conjugate them between an eye blink to the Portuguese teacher. They often find themselves in classes counting the stars on the ceiling of the classroom. They laugh at their loves and cry at their heartbrakes. They laugh at their heartbreaks and cry at their loves. They can't be explained, much less understood. In the woman we can find the little girl and in the little girl we can find the woman. Well, but these are already another kind of words. Ana Reis
Today my words talk about girls. Nowadays girls live in a restless age. They live in an age where the day has barely ended, it is already morning. Rose button trying to open itself. Just like the theory of a glass of water. Is it half empty or half full?! Some days they stay calm. And there are others that they look like mad chickens looking for something that anyone knows what. They conjugate in the same character gestures of madness and modesty. They have child behaviors and woman conversations. In their arms they bring a bible and a book with love poems. They walk as if they are supermodels looking at the mirrors that surround them. Or they hide their faces between the sheets of a newspaper that they pretend they are reading. Today's girls listen to jazz and dance to Beyoncé. They study the anatomy of the boys that walk around them and spend their afternoons in the libraries. They exchanged shy laughs and laugh too loud that they can wake up everyone who sleep on the other side of the town. Today's girls focus on their studies. They learn the verbs and conjugate them between an eye blink to the Portuguese teacher. They often find themselves in classes counting the stars on the ceiling of the classroom. They laugh at their loves and cry at their heartbrakes. They laugh at their heartbreaks and cry at their loves. They can't be explained, much less understood. In the woman we can find the little girl and in the little girl we can find the woman. Well, but these are already another kind of words. Ana Reis
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