Status Updates From Perto do Coração Selvagem

Very easy to loose track of what I’m reading

The girl stretched out on the bed, her eye vigilant in the waning light. The whitish bed swimming in the darkness. Weariness creeping inside her body, lucidity fleeing the dusk. Tattered dreams, awakening visions.

Now fully awake, should she so desire, Joana could relax a little, and relive her entire childhood...The outcome of those days when she had wandered to and fro, renouncing and loving the same things a thousand times over. The outcome of those nights, lived in darkness and silence, tiny stars twinkling on high.

But I am tired, despite my happiness today, a happiness which comes from who knows where, like that of a summer dawn. I am tired, I am now desperately tired! Let us weep together, softly. At having suffered, and let us continue to suffer sweetly. Let us sleep holding hands. The world goes round and somewhere there are things unknown to me. Let us sleep on God and on mystery, a quiet, fragile ship floating on the sea,

Who am I? Well, that is asking too much. I am reminded of a chromatic study by Bach and my intellect fails me. It is as cold and pure as ice, yet one can sleep on it.
I feel who I am and the impression is lodged in the upper part of my brain, on my lips — especially on my tongue — on the surface of my arms and is also coursing inside me, deep down inside my body, but where, precisely where, I cannot say.

Her aunt's tongue and mouth were soft and warm like those of a dog.

For the best saying, as well as being the most recent was: goodness makes me want to vomit. Goodness was lukewarm and weak, it stank of raw meat that had been lying around for a long time without, however, becoming completely rotten. It was freshened up from time to time, seasoned sufficiently to preserve it, a lump of lukewarm, stagnating meat.