nº.114
imagem simples:
Passagem desnivelada sobre a linha ferroviária em Lisboa, para ligação ao bairro do Rego, na manhã de 15 de Agosto de 2015.
[foto: samsung galaxy s3]
.
problema não-tão-simples:
"Quinn heard laughter in the hallway, first from a woman and then from a child - the high and the higher, a staccato of ringing shrapnel - and then the basso rumbling of Auster's guffaw. The child spoke: «Daddy, look what I found!» And then the woman explained that it had been lying on the street, and why not, it seemed perfectly okay. A moment later he heard the child running towards him down the hall. The child shot into the living room, caught sight of Quinn, and stopped dead in his tracks. He was a blond-haired boy of five or six.
«Good afternoon», said Quinn.
The boy, rapidly withdrawing into shyness, managed no more than a faint hello. In his left hand he held a red object that Quinn could not identify. Quinn asked the boy what it was.
«It's a yoyo», he answered, opening his hand to show him. «I found it on the street».
«Does it work?»
The boy gave an exaggerated pantomine shrug. «Dunno. Siri can't do it. And I don't know how.»
Quinn asked him if he could try, and the boy walked over and put it in his hand. As he examined the yoyo, he could hear the child breathing beside him, watching his every move. The yoyo was plastic, similar to the ones he had played with years ago, but more elaborate somehow, an artifact of the space age. Quinn fastened the loop at the end of the string around his middle finger, stood up, and gave it a try. The yoyo gave off a fluted, whistling sound as it descended, and sparks shot off inside it. The boy gasped, but then the yoyo stopped, dangling at the end of its line.
«A great philosopher once said», muttered Quinn, «that the way up and the way down are one and the same.»
«But you didn't make it go up", said the boy. «It only went down.»
«You have to keep trying.»
Quinn was rewinding the spool for another attempt when Auster and his wife entered the room. He looked up and saw the woman first. In that one brief moment he knew that he was in trouble. She was a tall, thin blonde, radiantly beautiful, with an energy and happiness that seemed to make everything around her invisible. It was too much for Quinn. He felt as though Auster were tauting him with the things that he had lost, and he responded with envy and rage, a lacerating self-pity. Yes, he too would love liked to have this wife and this child, to sit around all day spouting drivel about old books, to be surrounded by yoyos and ham omelettes and fountain pens. He prayed to himself for deliverance.
Auster saw the yoyo in his hand and said, «I see you've already met. Daniel», he said to the boy, «this is Daniel». And then to Quinn, with that same ironic smile, «Daniel, this is Daniel»."
«Good afternoon», said Quinn.
The boy, rapidly withdrawing into shyness, managed no more than a faint hello. In his left hand he held a red object that Quinn could not identify. Quinn asked the boy what it was.
«It's a yoyo», he answered, opening his hand to show him. «I found it on the street».
«Does it work?»
The boy gave an exaggerated pantomine shrug. «Dunno. Siri can't do it. And I don't know how.»
Quinn asked him if he could try, and the boy walked over and put it in his hand. As he examined the yoyo, he could hear the child breathing beside him, watching his every move. The yoyo was plastic, similar to the ones he had played with years ago, but more elaborate somehow, an artifact of the space age. Quinn fastened the loop at the end of the string around his middle finger, stood up, and gave it a try. The yoyo gave off a fluted, whistling sound as it descended, and sparks shot off inside it. The boy gasped, but then the yoyo stopped, dangling at the end of its line.
«A great philosopher once said», muttered Quinn, «that the way up and the way down are one and the same.»
«But you didn't make it go up", said the boy. «It only went down.»
«You have to keep trying.»
Quinn was rewinding the spool for another attempt when Auster and his wife entered the room. He looked up and saw the woman first. In that one brief moment he knew that he was in trouble. She was a tall, thin blonde, radiantly beautiful, with an energy and happiness that seemed to make everything around her invisible. It was too much for Quinn. He felt as though Auster were tauting him with the things that he had lost, and he responded with envy and rage, a lacerating self-pity. Yes, he too would love liked to have this wife and this child, to sit around all day spouting drivel about old books, to be surrounded by yoyos and ham omelettes and fountain pens. He prayed to himself for deliverance.
Auster saw the yoyo in his hand and said, «I see you've already met. Daniel», he said to the boy, «this is Daniel». And then to Quinn, with that same ironic smile, «Daniel, this is Daniel»."
[Paul Auster, "City of glass", in The New York trilogy, ed. Faber and Faber, 2011, p.100-102, (ed.original: 1985)]
Sem comentários:
Enviar um comentário