Tag: Literatura

Cactos

I require a silence of my own on gray mornings, like the song of the wind in the cactus leaves. Simply to reflect on the NOTHING of my thoughts and it took me a while to be ok with that.
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Correndo como Loba

For me it was already good. And it was suddenly, becoming a grown-up, pursuing a career, paying bills, sleeping every day and waking up the same; and here I go: running from frustrations and sometimes with them. I just can’t stop.
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O mundo é dos jovens

Andei tanto para te ver espelhado nos meus sonhos, no caminhar pequeno que agora corre, nos brinquedos tantos e vários que cresceram contigo. E nos livros de palavras fáceis que são hoje ensaios monografias e dissertações. E então, ele se apresenta no seu próprio mundo, firme e decidido.
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Mornos

The warm days gradually cool my veins and I freeze my memory at the time of those secret dreams
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Exaurida

I’ve been exhausted from the days that pass without weighing their pointer. I’m tired of the laziness that works to do nothing. Then I just walk. Still tired,I keep the pace.
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Passar despercebida

I went to buy a normal white shirt. I didn’t think so. That’s when I realized, that everyone wants to be different, everything is specialized, everything has to have a differential – except what is normal.
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Antigamente

I don’t know if I miss the old days … I don’t know if I feel it, I don’t know if it’s missing and sometimes I don’t remember it in the old days…
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Enjaulada

El miedo es algo gracioso: hay días en los está despierto, redondea mis ideas y aterroriza mis sentidos. Y hay momentos en que duerme y ahí es cuando mi coraje se escapa y habla con todos.
Fear is a funny thing: There are days when he freaks out and rounds up my ideas and terrifies my senses. And there are times when it snooze and that’s when my courage escapes and talks to everyone.
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