Corrente de ar.
O vento atravessa a casa, derruba-me umas quantas folhas.
Levanto-me, fecho as janelas com pouca vontade e vou, aos poucos, acendendo as luzes.
"So that I may say at all times, even when you do not answer and perhaps hear nothing, something of this is being heard, I am not merely talking to myself [...]." (Samuel Beckett, Happy Days)
O vento atravessa a casa, derruba-me umas quantas folhas.
posted by Finn @ 21:24
[...] something of this is being heard [...]
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