The Giant and the Dragon

Once upon a time, there was a giant. He was born in a very old place, a land where all the saints, angels, gods and ghosts come from. Some say it is holy, some believe it is haunted. When he was a kid, he didn`t know he was a giant and played happily with all the other kids in the land of eternal present. But one day he woke up and saw himself in a carriage shielded by policemen. From the carriage, a policeman took him to a train center and from the train center he took him to a box. His days were all the same: carriage-train center-box-carriage-train center-box… He had been sent to this special prison because they found out he would be a future giant, which are not only known to be big, but sweet and courageous at the same time. The police decided to imprison him so that he wouldn’t learn what it is like to be free.
When he grew up, he actually became a giant. Girls like giants but he was too shy to take advantage of it. His legs were very long, so as his back and shoulders. He was then sent to another prison, where he was trained to become a soldier. There, they took away his heart as a drastic measure to kill freedom in him. Since then, he has a big hole in the middle of the chest. This proved to be useless though, because he had already been in the land of eternal present, where he ran and played and tasted freedom in its pure form. Freedom had been irreversibly inscribed in all his cells.
Finally he managed to escape and decided to move to another continent, a land also full of saints, angels, gods and ghosts. He decided it was time to be free. So he began to travel around to see if he could find a place to live freely and peacefully.
That’s when I met the giant. He was wandering round and round and I invited him to come to my place. In the first night he couldn’t sleep and he was so big he didn’t fit in the bed. He was also afraid of the ghosts that haunt my house. I don’t really know why, but he stayed in.
In the mornings, when he is having breakfast still sleepy he regularly spills out the milk or the coffee with his clumsy arms. He takes a special medicine to control the body shakes provoked by the immense freedom he has locked inside him. I think he needs to rest for a while. He is looking for a path which has a heart in it and it is not an easy task for anyone. He is very fragile, has a beautiful smile and likes to drink bitter liquids and eat raw fish. He told me he has a dragon hidden inside.
When he meets with this dragon he will be finally able to fly.

YES! Nós temos ingressos para o show da Mart'nália.

"Se eu fingir e sair
Por aí na noitada
Me acabando de rir
Se eu disser que não digo
E não ligo e que fico
Só vou aprontar...

(...)

É que eu sambo direitinho
Assim bem miudinho
Cê não sabe acompanhar
Vou arrancar tua blusa
E por no meu cabide
Só prá pendurar
Quero ver
Se você tem atitude
Se vai encarar...

Chega de fazer fumaça
De contar vantagem
Quero ver chegar junto
Prá me juntar, eh!
Me fazer sentir mais viva
Me apertar o corpo e a alma
Me fazendo suar
Quero beijos sem tréguas
Quero sete mi'léguas
Sem descansar
Quero ver
Se você tem atitude
Se vai encarar..."

Pra não dizer que não falei das rosas

As rosas que comprei sábado
no Largo do Machado
ainda estão vivas.

Hoje é quarta-feira

Nunca compro rosas.
Prefiro margaridas, begônias, flores do campo
Mas estas rosas estavam tão
irresistivelmente lindas naquele balde sujo na calçada da rua do Catete
que eu precisei tê-las.

Trouxe-as para casa envoltas
num pedaço de jornal velho.

E elas retribuiram meu gesto
permanecendo vivas

Até hoje, quarta-feira.

Deixar-se entalhar pela madeira

- E quando descobrimos que as possibilidades daquela madeira são muito limitadas? E quando a madeira tem, de fato, muito pouco para dar? E quando suas lindas tramas seduzem, mas não mais encantam? O que acontece quando aquele mundo outrora repleto de promessas simplesmente não oferece mais nada do que o artista deseja?

- Quando o artista não se emociona mais com aquela madeira, é hora de deixá-la pra trás. Hora de parar, ficar quieto, observar ao redor. Às vezes ele está caminhando e topa de repente com uma bela madeira nova. Às vezes, ele tem que partir em longas expedições até encontrá-la. Mas ele só tem como saber que é aquela madeira que procurava depois de arriscar conhecê-la. Como eu disse, é tudo uma questão de tempo e intimidade. Só ganhando intimidade com a madeira que ela vai mostrar todas as possibilidades que contém dentro de si, as tramas escondidas. Ele pode encontrar coisas maravilhosas e é claro que vai topar com entraves e limites. Mas se tiver medo e evitar ser íntimo, simplesmente nunca vai saber se encontrou o que procurava. Arrisca jogar fora a madeira certa ou perder muito tempo com a errada. Então é certo que a madeira é a matéria-prima do artista. Mas o artista de verdade também é matéria-prima da madeira. Deste encontro, ele retira forças e coragem para se deixar entalhar por ela.