sexta-feira, 26 de abril de 2013

Violence on TV

She sleeps without ever sleeping. Constantly expecting, awaiting for the “foreigner”, the so-called foreigner, to arrive. She knew him very well, without face, without name, but she knew his whole story, his poverty, his perversity. She saw him every day, without face, without name, in someone else´s house, someone else without face, without name, whose story she knew as well, for it was her own. She knew so many people and now she knows none, she knows people without faces, without names, she has never known the world or even so many people, and now she is one with all, for she is one of all. She knows the stories, the unforgetable stories of many and her own heartbreaking story is known by almost none. Every step that is taken, every noise that rebounds, the blood flashes through her arteries, shocks crash through her brain. Expectation of what´s yet to come, unexpected destiny, because there is nothing more to wait for, nothing but what is already known. Only known is the effect, cause remains mysterious – remain anonymous; or finally, like all, be known without face, without name, and sympathized by all the people without faces, without names.


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