AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (2) O Silêncio (Foreign) Um poema inacabado. Um desabafo feito palavras. Pelo carácter próprio do poema, faço intensão de o retirar passados alguns dias. [182 words] Uma Voz Que Se Ouve... (Foreign) - [45 words]
Why I Like Watermelon Sarrabisco
»Why I like watermelon.
Yesterday, arriving home I found a hand written letter with my wife's calligraphy instead of the usual routine - a plate on my specific seat on the dinning room table with the same pepperonis tempered chicken with chips (it's always chicken on Saturdays). From one moment to the next, I found myself a wifeless, retired, fifty-year-old man with nothing to eat. On the letter, she said: that she's gone away to live with her cousins in France, that she's taken the kids with her, that I'd never lay my eyes on her again.
At the beginning, I refused to believe. I walked the entire house calling:
-Rosália!
I got silence as an answer. And, lacking more, I ate silence. The worst part is that silence takes time to get digested and, since then, I progressively turned myself into one of those animals - like cows, digesting silence instead of fresh grass, over and over in a rumination process. The doorwomen in the residence:
-Where's Rosália? I haven't seen her for quite an extended period of time, now...
I answered her with a monosyllabic sound preparing an answer, embarrassed:
- she's spending some time on her mother's - she's been sick. It won't take long 'till she shows up with the kids. It wont... take long (I couldn't hide the sadness in me)
Yesterday I arrived, ate silence and, as dessert I ate watermelon - what remains of you Rosália. Your favourite fruit.
The house is, today, the abandoned stage of what my life has formerly been. I drag from one sofa to the other inhabited by memories. I live in memories like someone who has dived into a photo album to delude himself in a time that does not pass - a time that stands still. And... I don't know why, Rosália - the taste of watermelon, your favourite fruit, reminds me your voice, your hair, the way you used to seat, the way you used to smell. It reminds me what I've lost, what I've been - what's detached from me. Somehow, even though I feel like a sticker that's lost its album - its background, there's still a piece of you I keep - water melon as dessert.
-We used to be happy, didn't we?
READER'S REVIEWS (4) DISCLAIMER: STORYMANIA DOES NOT PROVIDE AND IS NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR REVIEWS. ALL REVIEWS ARE PROVIDED BY NON-ASSOCIATED VISITORS, REGARDLESS OF THE WAY THEY CALL THEMSELVES.
"the title attracted me to this story. I like the written style - even though its short i suppose the author had nothing else to say, a good mesage i think. I thought it was sweet." -- hezzy.
"Hezzy, I also think it's a bit too short. Perhaps I'll build something out of these bricks (if you know what I mean). Thanks for the review. " -- sarrabisco.
"grande historinha meu rapaz.. (isto eh resp ao teu mail) Mas pois é nem sabes o k perdeste meu amigo.. A mariana veio de top pa mostrar o seu espalhafatoso piercing.. foi sem duvida mt bunito.. a tua loirinha n sei, nc falei c ela.. de materia n foi nada de novo..aki tens um post.. visto k o meu mail n quer mandar coisas pa ti pelo que parece.. tenho uma foto nova no DA.. eheh.. fica bem ah e ja ag ke ker dizer ab? ein?" -- Francisco Lobo(shico).
"damn.. esquecime k isto n eh privado cm no DA.. acho k n disse nada comprometedor na praça publica.. desc.. (damnstupidddddddddd!!!)" -- Francisco Lobo.
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