despedida

ou despedidas no último dia do ano escolar, com os adeuses aos que não estarão aqui em Setembro. despedida também de um breve Maigret na Riviera que, estranhamente, me lembrou o ambiente de Film Socialisme. no oposto -julgo- desse sentimento, entro no verão com Fitzgerald de This Side of Paradise. um parágrafo chegava-lhe para curvas alucinantes.


"But Beatrice Blaine! There was a woman! Early pictures taken on her father's estate at Lake Geneva, Wisconsin, or in Rome at the Sacred Heart Convent—an educational extravagance that in her youth was only for the daughters of the exceptionally wealthy—showed the exquisite delicacy of her features, the consummate art and simplicity of her clothes. A brilliant education she had—her youth passed in renaissance glory, she was versed in the latest gossip of the Older Roman Families; known by name as a fabulously wealthy American girl to Cardinal Vitori and Queen Margherita and more subtle celebrities that one must have had some culture even to have heard of. She learned in England to prefer whiskey and soda to wine, and her small talk was broadened in two senses during a winter in Vienna. All in all Beatrice O'Hara absorbed the sort of education that will be quite impossible ever again; a tutelage measured by the number of things and people one could be contemptuous of and charming about; a culture rich in all arts and traditions, barren of all ideas, in the last of those days when the great gardener clipped the inferior roses to produce one perfect bud."

Fitzgerald em This Side of Paradise.

 pode ser lido online, mas tenho o melhor dos melhores: um livro de biblioteca lido e relido, com algumas (poucas) notas a lápis que escaparam ao olho de falcão da bibliotecária. notas de estudante a dizer: aqui se caracteriza o personagem, e coisas parecidas. se eu fosse estudante gostaria que me dissessem: desenvolva quantas ideias deseje sobre a última frase deste parágrafo.

"J'aime bien regarder les heures passer."

disse Jacques Loustal que não ilustrou O homem que via passar os comboios, mas outros de Simenon. Loustal também vê, mas não só, o seu universo é aquele: "J'ai un problème pour dessiner le quotidien, Paris en 1998 ça ne m'intéresse pas. Je suis spécialisé dans des atmosphères entre années 30 et années 60." gostei do cruzamento de imagens, tudo é possível.

ainda no início, as coisas como símbolo. um pouco como o desenho infantil até aos oito anos ou as pinturas rupestres. ..."the evening meal was little more than a high tea: bread and butter, thin slices of cheese, cold sausage, and the like, with perhaps a sweet as well, and only tea to drink.

More likely the stove was responsible - no ordinary stove, but a magestic contraption of the very best made, in sleek green earthenware with chromium-plated fittings. It did more than heat the living room, its heat, its breathing, so to speak, seemed to set the rhythm of the life of the household." a cozinha como o respirar da casa. home. quotidiano.

e mais à frente.

"It was even hotter than at Popinga's home, and here it was an aggressive heat that an ugly cast-iron stove, of the type used in railway stations, launched at one in sudden waves. There was a reek of gin, sawdust on the floor, and the table was mottled with rings of moisture."