quinta-feira, 23 de janeiro de 2014

Burma é minha

Um lugar.
Áspero, intratável como um cacto: convidativo, portanto. Passagens secretas, tempestades de areia e Chandon em taças de cristal. Particularmente, prefiro o vidro em sua forma primitiva, beber da fonte. Pessoas em todos os estados. Pessoas líquidas. Gente vestida colorida e sem cor na face. Muita gente, o que é proporcionalmente igual a ninguém.

"I know what you mean about wishing somebody wasn't there, though. It's just usually it's myself that I wish I could get away from. Seriously, think about this. I have never been anywhere that I haven't been. I've never had a kiss when I wasn't one of the kissers. Y'know, I've never, um, gone to the movies, when I wasn't there in the audience. I've never been out bowling, if I wasn't there, y'know making some stupid joke. I think that's why so many people hate themselves. Seriously, it's just they are sick to death of being around themselves."


2 comentários:

  1. I don't know if people are sick to death of being around themselves. Most of them avoid spending time alone. How can they be themselves and get sick of it, if they are always wearing the social mask? Maybe they are just sick of the person they have created for themselves...
    I mean, that's why everything is camera nowadays, isn't it? Are we afraid of being alone, or realizing that we are actually alone?

  2. You're very polite in your disagreement. I wonder, however, why I'm not able to recognize you. Be comfortable, though.

    I agree that people wear social masks; it's pretty convenient for them. They do so because they want to take part in social gatherings, to feel part of something, and it could be awesome, except for the fact that a group or communnity that accepts only a certain kind of person inevitably lets a lot of them out, and this is pointless. What's the big deal in taking people as they are and celebrating differences?

    Once I read that solitude is existence itself, the effort of 'being', and that made me change my whole perspective. We are alone, indeed, because we cannot be another, but why this has to be a bad thing? That same book taught me: if people are not comfortable being with themselves, their comfort with someone else will always be an illusion.

    I shared that quote because I share the feeling; it gives me not a sensation of being bored or lonely; it's more like, you know, an urge to be somewhere else, someone else, doing other things; I like being myself (i don't have a lot of choice, anyway), but I'd like to see what's it like being me if I wasn't me. I'd like to have another view for daily things, for known people and places, for myself in the mirror.