And thus spoke the place
Bring me the thrill of the first time you saw me
Each of which became a path for you in a different work
Bring yourself to me
The remains of each piece, mixed up in the earth
Bring me a piece of my old guests
That place you used to love so dearly
Bearing the faces of 19 people lined up side by side, looking at us
Sculpted in solid wood of Kurimbu villages
The story of each suspended in faraway places, like empty suitcases
Bring me 19 suitcases
Each concealling the memory of a different person
Bring me all the moments you were lost in
The moments you will look at through lenses to seek the traces of time
Bring me back my old chairs
Each will reunite me with a different memory
Bring me that poem of Rumi’s
That begins with the lines “How good to migrate anew everyday.
And how beautiful to settle anew everyday.”
And that ends saying “So many words that belong to yesterday.
Now we need to say new things.
”Bring me people
May each be the storyteller of their home towns
Bring me your dreams
Those dreams that turned me into you, head-to-foot, as I lived
Bring me my own memory
That memory I yearn to meet
Bring me everything
Each thing the everything of something else.
ver aqui também.
mais, sobre a fechada europa.
and here.
about her.
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