Conto colaborativo: 2 Agora vai (ou não)

09 set 2017


He never thought "I surely am myself". Nevertheless this possibility of thought somehow impressed a way of being in himself. I mean, he never asks if he could have led a different style of life, or how similar or different other people's lives could be. One could say he was selfish or egocentric, but to be fair those questions never occured to him.

Thus, he followed his life, making decisions on behalf of the farm he owned. He worked hard, or rather, as hard as needed, and had some fun in weekends. One could say that he was happy, but happy never makes a good story. Let's see.


One night (and everything either happen one night or one evening or one day) he decides to check the animals in his farm once more. On the way back he stopped to rest a bit and enjoy the fresh breeze. It was a lovely view from the middle of the field. There was no moon and no source of light other than the stars and the lamp from the little house which in that moment looked as far as the sky.


Feeling no reason to hurry, he decided to lay down on the grass and stare into the stars. When he distracted from his comtemplation, surprised he discovered he was naked.


Between the man and his own nudity was there any possible step to be taken?


10 set 2017


Finally, with a moan, and a smile on her face, she dropped herself on the bed: after all that pleasure she felt the need to sleep.


 She wakes up and remembers of dreaming about a piece of music. Sounds, untouchable sounds that, in that vague certainty that is only possible in dreams, made up some harmony. "We were those sounds", she recalls. Then she feels thankful for their capacity to dream; to bring to awaken life that very certainty about the mystery in every piece of their world.


While the morning languor vanished, they got ready to continue their walk uphill. "What can I say? You should be crazy to have accepted joining me in this path!", but he replies, "I don't think so, it's been lovely. I have no idea why it never occured to me to come this direction.". "I had the same thought a few times before. But let's save our breathes for the walking."


"Ok, but when are we going to stop?"


She didn't answer him at that time. Within herself she felt that the answer would be "Never!" but she refrained from saying it. "I just want to stare at the horizon, them go meet it. Then start again, choosing another place to see."


The morning light was arriving as rays through the vegetation. "Like they could be touched but the little fish never catches them." They stopped. She inspected some flowers while he took some sticks from the wet ground. "You know, that night we met for the first time, something intriguing had just happened to me", he said. "Nice! Tell me", she said, while smelling that curious flower really close to her nose repeatedly. "I looked at the stars and somehow I saw myself there."


"As if the stars formed the 'Farmer constelation'?"


"Yes, something like this. Then I remembered that I used to draw myself a lot when I was a boy. I felt like drawing with stars."


11 set 2017



She stood by the bed and abandoned herself to watch him sleep. He breathed as if his body had never felt any shade of pain. She smiled lightly and kissed his check, nesting herself again in his body. Her eyes and fingers followed the strings of his hair that waved gently on the bedsheet and floor, then climbed up the walls and formed the ceiling.

When they first saw the village, there seemed to be something odd about the huts, seen from some distance. Indeed, as they approached, they realized they were all made of hair. And more, that hair was still growing from the inhabitants heads. Seeing that bizarre, almost unconceivable landscape, they could barely imagine that they would soon entangled their lives (and of course, their hairs) so deeply in that place.

They arrived at night. That was already expected given that the more time they spend exploring the hills, the shorter the light hours became. The nights, on the contrary, seemed as long as usual, but the daytime was somehow lost. Or forgotten. Given that in the forest they couldn't really see the sun rising or setting, on the last days, the passage from dawn to sunset was a delicate movement of shades of orange and blue turning into one another.


14 set 2017



"It is time to put our clothes on and to face the world." They said and smiled, for "the world" was an expression much more bearable those days. They went out of the tent and joined the people that soon would start working.

The period for the preparation of manioc root flour had come. In the village of the Iamìauà it was believed that the moonlight could make the flour whiter and tastier so it was done in nights of full moon. There was a lot of work to do because the roots needed to be peeled, grated, pressed and then dried. From the liquid that comes from pressing the root they make a sweet beverage slightly alcoholic. But the flour was the the main ingredient of their cuisine and everybody, from children to elders, participated in that process.

The travellers were sitting with a small group occupied in grating the manioc. They were sitting on the ground, making a small circle. Each person had a bowl on their lap and when it was full, they put the content in a pile in the middle of the circle. Later someone would take it to other group for the next step of the process.

"Actually, the reason we make the flour during full moon is simply because on the rest of the time it's harder to see what we are doing." Said an old woman to Anna, with a mocking expression. "The flour looks whiter because the moonlight makes it glow. Nevertheless, it is, indeed, as white as usual. But the youngers can get too romantic about this."

"I see.", Anna answered. "Afterall in a place where there is only night, the intensity of the moonlight is a significant matter.", she completed, but only mentally, for she felt difficulty to explain what day and sunlight would be.

But Dalton was curious and began to draft some inquiry.

"In the place I lived there was another... moon. We called it sun. The sunlight was really brighter than tonight's moonlight. So brighter that I can't even describe it. It was... the colors were... everything looks different in sunlight."

"I've seen sunlight once in a dream.", the woman replied. "After that dream, the stars changed. Then, you two arrived. I believe you have something to learn from the night."

"Sorry, what?"

"Otherwise you wouldn't have arrived."

"So you are saying this is kind of a magical place?"

"I'm saying that you arrived where you needed to. But I'm still curious of why."

They explained the peculiar conditions in which they've meet. She told about when she reached the farm and found him on the field and he told about that inner experience of remembering his childhood and feeling naked afterwards.

"So, you were the one messing with the stars! It seems to me that you gave the direction, while she gave you the movement. What a fine traveling pair you two make! I'm glad that you came and I feel I've got things to learn from both!"




17 set 2017


 She felt that the moment for money and success had finally come. But what is success? Is it that feeble moment in which the sun and the shadows conspire so you feel that the atmosphere is so thick that you almost believe that you could live by its nutrition? No, success is just working hard and seeing your work be fruitful. "But what a feeling does it give you!", she thought as she packed the last of her handmade bijou set for shipping. Then she went for a shower for she would met her girlfriend Amanda in an hour.


Amanda worked as a kindergarten school teacher since the beggining of that year and she was also an actress. Thus, when Paloma arrived at the bar, there were a pile of books, two half-emptied glasses and leaves of paper - drafts for a play Amanda was planning - on the table. She was talking enthusiastically with a couple next table. When she saw Paloma, she excused herself and received a kiss.


"I haven't meet your friends yet.", Paloma said.


"Oh, neither did I, they sat there and we just started talking about the bar decoration. Then of traveling, then of children..."


"Speaking of traveling, have you heard anything from Anna lately?"


"Indeed, it's been months since she left! And that crazy woman said she wouldn't take her telephone. She could at least send us a letter!"


"Who knows if she hadn't? Maybe it got lost... or she did."


"It seems that we'll only be sure when she comes back. If she comes back, I mean. Who knows if she has found a lover or something? Anyway, I feel that she is fine."


"You are always so optimist! You have this incredible aura that makes everybody smile. I can't help falling in love every time I look at you!"


"Oh, Paloma, you're lovely. But now tell me how is the webstore idea working out?"


"It's pretty fine. Our instagram has already 500 followers. This week the sells began to rise, so me and Helena use almost all of our spare time to produce more pieces."


"Spare time is not much time in your case."


"Well, yes, but my thesis is half ready, or rather, the toughest part is over. And you, tell me about this theater play you're writing."



21 set 2017

At last she decided: she wouldn't have followed her friend advice, she would have tried to make him her own. So the next morning she goes to the station and gets on a bus even before sunrise.

Sitting by the window she begins to inquire herself: who is writing this story, my story? By whose perspective do I choose to imagine my decision of following him? By the perspective of someone who stayed and casually mentions my departure when meeting a friend on the street? Or through the eyes of a fellow bus passenger that sees me and my awkward hurried expression either with disdain or curiosity and hesitates in starting some conversation? Or finally through the eyes of the one that is the very objective of this journey and, despite of how bold and energically I approach, has the ultimate power of accepting or refusing any kind of emotion I offer him.

"But why don't you write your story yourself?", you might ask. Well, that is the objective and, as you can notice, I started doing. You see, that question occurred to me when I entered the bus. At that moment I visualized me as a thin layer of silk fabric waving between the thoughts of people around, my form and dynamic being decided by theirs. But wouldn't they feel the same? In the end, I would not describe my nature as just a particle or as a wave, rather then both.

A long bus travel is a great opportunity for this type of comtemplation. And also for neck pain and eating junk food. After some time she slept, or stood in a state of continuously falling asleep. Meanwhile she concluded, half dreaming, "the negative part of writing our own story is spending time choosing what to register. Maybe sometimes I will just be and leave the details to the reader." Then, some hours later, she arrived.


26 set 2017

She looked at some of her unfinished pictures; then she broke to tears. After ten years working in that same room together with such creative, luminous people it was hard to admit defeat and say goodbye to the research project they've built: archaeological studies about the legendary Iamìauà culture. Her work was mainly about Iamìauà pictorical art and mithology (which inspired most of her own paintings). In that lab they also received schools for lectures and workshops; so there were many paintings made by children - the very heirs of Iamìauà people. That project, in the end was maybe one of the last possibilities of recovering some of the local History.

"The Iamìauà - the night folk - would have lived in communities of a few hundreds of people, forming a network of groups that shared the same language and social organization, and traded food, clothes, tools between themselves. The legend says that the villages could only be found at night for they lived in a separated time flow, in which there wasn't daytime. For that reason, the lunar phases were very important so a lot of their art is dedicated to the moon spirit. Another legend about the Iamìauà people tells of their ability of making their houses out of hair - live hair, still growing on their heads! Imagine how much shampoo they spent!".

Caterina dropped the leaflet on an empty table.

"Silly leaflet."

Now that she had taken her belongings she would lock the door and return the key to the building administration.

"It was not hair, it was their minds.",  she thought, feeling her own ideas trimmed.

****

The speech of the old woman arouse Dalton's curiosity. "What did she mean when she said that Anna gave the movement and I gave the direction? Well, I can agree with the first part; if I haven't met Anna, I wouldn't have arrived here. Still, she was already traveling and I just followed!"

Anna was sleeping by his side. Absently, he kissed her shoulder and embraced her waistline. She awoke partially and asked "are you still thinking of the full moon night?". "Yes.", he replied. Then added, "I still don't see how I contributed to us getting here. Well, maybe it's just silly. But the way that woman spoke to us messed with me."

"It's natural to feel puzzled, Dalton. Afterall, this IS a magical place. I guess anything we do or feel can have substancial consequences. If I haven't found you, for example, maybe I'd still be wandering and the daytime would still be."

"Anything we do or feel..."

"Remember that night, when you saw yourself in the stars. I believe this is important. I didn't know why but I felt that was a peculiar moment. When I saw you I developed a desire - I wanted to feel as naked as you were." She meditated for a while, then continued: "I think I know which direction you gave us!"

"That would be?"

"Inward!"

"That's clever!", he said happily. "I wonder what it has to do with the vanquishing of sunlight!"



 07 out 2017



"So at last he began to play mad..." she said to her as she was going to sip some tea from her cup. "This tea tastes too thick", she said.


"That's because you put too much wind in it."


"Oh, you are right. But let me explain what followed. The man turned into a turtle."


"You saw him changing?"


"No, I saw the turtle and it looked at me."


"The turtle looked at you and you believed it was him."


"The eyes were so human..."


"Everybody says it about animals. They can't admit they are just it."


"I know this but this time it was different. The turtle opened its mouth. It wanted to speak to me."


"Did it say something?"


"Yes! It said 'the road is dangerous.'Then it became so quite and grave. I'm  sure it saw lots of bad things happening."


"Oh, I see. And then what else?"


"The tea is over. I drank it up."


"No problem. I fly to the kitchen to get more."

On the way to the kitchen she met a huge animal, maybe a rhino, who asked her for directions. They talked for a few minutes, then she remembered she had a meeting at the neighbourhood association to deliberate about new rules concerning the parking area. Because they all could fly she thought it was excessive the number of cars used by everybody. "But you see, these are modern times!", somebody told her. "Maybe they are all waiting for the occasion to run away.", she thought.


"You forgot my tea", she heard as she climbed the sofa.

"And you said he was playing mad."

"I didn't lie! But I lost count during the third or second round, my bad."

"Yes, but the turtle story?"

"Is true. Go again and ask him."

And then she went. It would be hard to find the right turtle, given the conditions, but maybe she would become lucky. Actually, the first creature she found was a mermaid.

"Hello", the mermaid said. Her hair had the colour of red soil. "I was wondering if you would touch my breasts."

"Well, I was looking for a turtle."


"Maybe I saw a turtle nearby. Why don't you come closer and try to find it here?". The mermaid was as big as an island and really liked to be touched.