#desafio 365 days
Day 61 - Talk about a religious book or religion.
Review of the book "Chooses", by the writer Dado Matins (install: @martins.dado).
I started the book without much idea of what would become a Christian Romance, but was surprised by a light writing (despite dealing with heavy subjects), an engaging story (although I am not a religious person) and with a very correct and courageous positioning of the author, facing themes that are often silent in the Churches (in spite of the denomination).
Luana, the initial protagonist, goes through domestic violence - André, the good guy to fall in love, is a fervent believer and widower. Both their lives are connected by the accident that took André's wife. At first, the narrative is told from both points of view.
Throughout the narrative, we meet other characters, such as Esther and James. She went through childhood abuse and believed she would never open up to love. But God had his purposes and it was enough that she allowed him to act.
Since not everything is flowers, some chapters are told by Pastor Jonas and these specifically wrapped my stomach. Yes, the villain of the narrative is a pastor who uses his prestigious position to cover up his crimes.
Funny thing is, the story has two endings. I read them both because I'm curious! I really liked this narrative choice, but I wanted a third ending, author!!!
I suggest this reading for those who like romance who do not explore sexuality, for those who want a word of religious hope and for those who are curious like me and never deny reading something new!
@sylvviarubra
Sylvvia Rubraurora
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#desafio 365 days
Day 60 - Parody
I wrote a poem (Intertext) making a parody of the poem "Goodbye! I will return to the spring sun", by Ascenso Ferreira. Stay with both of you!
INTERTEXT (Sylvvia R.)
Three times the swallows
They flew...
Three times the leaves
They've renewed...
And for waiting for you in the spring sun,
I coughed.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Now the original:
Bye! I will return to the spring sun!
(Ascenso Ferreira - 1895/1965)
“Goodbye! I will return to the spring sun!”
And your mouth in bloom to my mouth joining
You whispered quietly: “The love that reigns in us
It allows us to face this absence smiling...”
“Goodbye. I'll be back as soon as it's over.
Winter... It'll be my heart! Wait...”
And reaching out my beautiful hand in beautiful gesture:
“Goodbye! I will return to the spring sun!”
Three times through the blue swallows flew!
Three times from the grove the leaf renewed
How in hearts the chimera is renewed...
And though you haven't fulfilled your oath,
Inda, I hear in the ear the phrase you said:
“Goodbye! I will return to the spring sun!”
Day 60 - Parody
I wrote a poem (Intertext) making a parody of the poem "Goodbye! I will return to the spring sun", by Ascenso Ferreira. Stay with both of you!
INTERTEXT (Sylvvia R.)
Three times the swallows
They flew...
Three times the leaves
They've renewed...
And for waiting for you in the spring sun,
I coughed.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Now the original:
Bye! I will return to the spring sun!
(Ascenso Ferreira - 1895/1965)
“Goodbye! I will return to the spring sun!”
And your mouth in bloom to my mouth joining
You whispered quietly: “The love that reigns in us
It allows us to face this absence smiling...”
“Goodbye. I'll be back as soon as it's over.
Winter... It'll be my heart! Wait...”
And reaching out my beautiful hand in beautiful gesture:
“Goodbye! I will return to the spring sun!”
Three times through the blue swallows flew!
Three times from the grove the leaf renewed
How in hearts the chimera is renewed...
And though you haven't fulfilled your oath,
Inda, I hear in the ear the phrase you said:
“Goodbye! I will return to the spring sun!”
#desafio 365 days
Day 59 - Nothing has changed, Sylvia.
He tells me I give him a migraine.
The miniskirt sells my thigh and I'm a consumer. Or they think I am. I rest the glass between my legs and everyone looks. Is that Hollywood or not? You didn't want it to be?
But he says I make you nauseous.
What about her? She says she wants to have a car and a house with a view of a yacht. I ask what ass and she looks at me mortified. Hello? She thinks that working eight hours a day off and the remaining sixteen at home isn't getting fucked. She questions how I am who I am. She wanted me to be who she thought I should be. Fo-di-da.
And what I think is, am I his agony?
Look, "girl ten" is fucking crazy. He made a tattoo and painted himself. Miss ten doesn't shave her armpit and you laugh at her. But for her, you don't even exist. What difference does it make?
Is he gonna talk to me one more time?
I walk in the mud and my seamsuit doesn't soak. Girl ten dances barefoot in the rain and won't even catch cold. The dumb-ass-ass-eight-hours-for-a-company cries for her ruined high heels and her nails, whose cuticles she ripped off, will rot.
Migraine's the bitch.
I take the glass and cross my legs. Everybody looks again. Fucking Hollywood: this is real, no makeup.
She spent the weekend on a cruise. He came back burned and burned. But rested ass to start over.
The “girl ten” took zero. No one understood why. But nobody cared.
And he's still there, sun. And me, bug. I come closer, and now he just lamp.
But I die the same way.
Day 59 - Nothing has changed, Sylvia.
He tells me I give him a migraine.
The miniskirt sells my thigh and I'm a consumer. Or they think I am. I rest the glass between my legs and everyone looks. Is that Hollywood or not? You didn't want it to be?
But he says I make you nauseous.
What about her? She says she wants to have a car and a house with a view of a yacht. I ask what ass and she looks at me mortified. Hello? She thinks that working eight hours a day off and the remaining sixteen at home isn't getting fucked. She questions how I am who I am. She wanted me to be who she thought I should be. Fo-di-da.
And what I think is, am I his agony?
Look, "girl ten" is fucking crazy. He made a tattoo and painted himself. Miss ten doesn't shave her armpit and you laugh at her. But for her, you don't even exist. What difference does it make?
Is he gonna talk to me one more time?
I walk in the mud and my seamsuit doesn't soak. Girl ten dances barefoot in the rain and won't even catch cold. The dumb-ass-ass-eight-hours-for-a-company cries for her ruined high heels and her nails, whose cuticles she ripped off, will rot.
Migraine's the bitch.
I take the glass and cross my legs. Everybody looks again. Fucking Hollywood: this is real, no makeup.
She spent the weekend on a cruise. He came back burned and burned. But rested ass to start over.
The “girl ten” took zero. No one understood why. But nobody cared.
And he's still there, sun. And me, bug. I come closer, and now he just lamp.
But I die the same way.
#desafio 365 days
Day 58 - A dream of crows
I move when I feel the wing break.
A black tone paints itself in the sky, I say and it looks at, without confirming what. It's a wing, I proceed, a broken wing. Pigeon? You want to know about it. No, crow. And I look into his eyes and he understands how.
Paralysis, watching my reflexes on the floor.
I don't know, I try to break the silence. I think it's falling. What? The crow... if the wing broke... You don't seem to worry about and say anything silly anymore. Don't you see? I insist on and he denies it quickly, passing his hands on his hair, which he always does when he's with.
I close my eyes and I feel the ground coming up, fast.
Now red paints the floor, I feel, but I don't comment. I close my eyes and see. You only dream of, he sentence, mute, but I can hear. They're the ones who dream about us, I let myself say last before.
Day 58 - A dream of crows
I move when I feel the wing break.
A black tone paints itself in the sky, I say and it looks at, without confirming what. It's a wing, I proceed, a broken wing. Pigeon? You want to know about it. No, crow. And I look into his eyes and he understands how.
Paralysis, watching my reflexes on the floor.
I don't know, I try to break the silence. I think it's falling. What? The crow... if the wing broke... You don't seem to worry about and say anything silly anymore. Don't you see? I insist on and he denies it quickly, passing his hands on his hair, which he always does when he's with.
I close my eyes and I feel the ground coming up, fast.
Now red paints the floor, I feel, but I don't comment. I close my eyes and see. You only dream of, he sentence, mute, but I can hear. They're the ones who dream about us, I let myself say last before.
#desafio 365 days
Day 57
There was your face in my drawer: last printed paper from a pile of printed papers – saved for what occasion? He was left there and no dust had worn the softness of the hair that molded him. and finding it again is always like the first time I met it: a small scare that the possibility always causes. This nausea. this discrete and unprecedented tremor. It's always new. It's always me.
I meet your face amid post-its, unscrewed bics and dry correctives. You'll see this: your face has been eternalized in one of those mimeograph tasks we brought home. And we made a mistake. and if we pass over the rubber, it is a stain; and if we try harder, it tears. and if we pass the errorex it is gone: there will be a stick creating even more reliefs.
Day 57
There was your face in my drawer: last printed paper from a pile of printed papers – saved for what occasion? He was left there and no dust had worn the softness of the hair that molded him. and finding it again is always like the first time I met it: a small scare that the possibility always causes. This nausea. this discrete and unprecedented tremor. It's always new. It's always me.
I meet your face amid post-its, unscrewed bics and dry correctives. You'll see this: your face has been eternalized in one of those mimeograph tasks we brought home. And we made a mistake. and if we pass over the rubber, it is a stain; and if we try harder, it tears. and if we pass the errorex it is gone: there will be a stick creating even more reliefs.
#desafio 365 days
Day 56 - Tell about a book that has a phrase of effect or famous, quote the phrase.
How many people should know the phrase "Everything is worth it, if the soul is not small" without knowing, however, that it is a verse of the poem Mar Portuguez, one of Fernando Pessoa's best known poems? I've met many!
The poem, first released in Continental magazine in 1922, became one of the most iconic poems in the book "Messagem", published in 1934. Keep the poem:
Portuguez Sea
O salty sea, how much of your salt
They're tears from Portugal!
For crossing you, how many mothers cried,
How many children in vain have prayed!
How many brides were left unmarried
To be ours, O sea!
Was it worth it? Everything's worth it
If the soul isn't small.
Who wants to go beyond Bojador
You have to go beyond the pain.
God to the sea the danger and the abyss gave,
But in it it mirrored the sky.
Day 56 - Tell about a book that has a phrase of effect or famous, quote the phrase.
How many people should know the phrase "Everything is worth it, if the soul is not small" without knowing, however, that it is a verse of the poem Mar Portuguez, one of Fernando Pessoa's best known poems? I've met many!
The poem, first released in Continental magazine in 1922, became one of the most iconic poems in the book "Messagem", published in 1934. Keep the poem:
Portuguez Sea
O salty sea, how much of your salt
They're tears from Portugal!
For crossing you, how many mothers cried,
How many children in vain have prayed!
How many brides were left unmarried
To be ours, O sea!
Was it worth it? Everything's worth it
If the soul isn't small.
Who wants to go beyond Bojador
You have to go beyond the pain.
God to the sea the danger and the abyss gave,
But in it it mirrored the sky.
#desafio 365 days
Day 55 - Poems of old
Thoughts (1997)
If thought flies
I'm flying over a river
where the waters mirror your face
And your eyes are the rarest stones
that he owns.
If thought flies
I'm flying over a river
that you find where you never get
for it is guided by the longing of what never
You let me live.
Day 55 - Poems of old
Thoughts (1997)
If thought flies
I'm flying over a river
where the waters mirror your face
And your eyes are the rarest stones
that he owns.
If thought flies
I'm flying over a river
that you find where you never get
for it is guided by the longing of what never
You let me live.
#desafio 365 days
Day 54 - Tell about a book you always quote.
I could quote several books here, but let's talk about a book by a national author, @cadantasautora !
He became a very quoted book by me when I talk about authors I know. Why? Well, because it's a visceral book, Pulp, but also that crimes aren't romanticized, like in many books we see out there.
The author created a couple with undeniable chemistry, each with a loaded emotional baggage and trying to survive in the city of Desire. I usually say Desire is a city where crime pays off and the protagonists go, the way they know, deal with it and beat it.
Day 54 - Tell about a book you always quote.
I could quote several books here, but let's talk about a book by a national author, @cadantasautora !
He became a very quoted book by me when I talk about authors I know. Why? Well, because it's a visceral book, Pulp, but also that crimes aren't romanticized, like in many books we see out there.
The author created a couple with undeniable chemistry, each with a loaded emotional baggage and trying to survive in the city of Desire. I usually say Desire is a city where crime pays off and the protagonists go, the way they know, deal with it and beat it.
#desafio 365 days
Day 53 - Poems of old
Dream hands
of plough
scratching and fertilizing
and sink nostalgia
in clear and warm waters
peachy
that doesn't pass early
that stays
which sticks
And just end
when again scratches
and bowels
Your nails
And you stay
And you get stuck
and finished
To be reborn in me.
Day 53 - Poems of old
Dream hands
of plough
scratching and fertilizing
and sink nostalgia
in clear and warm waters
peachy
that doesn't pass early
that stays
which sticks
And just end
when again scratches
and bowels
Your nails
And you stay
And you get stuck
and finished
To be reborn in me.
#desafio 365 days
Day 52 - Talk about a book of Sonnets
In 1959, Pablo Neruda published his book “One Hundred Sonnets of Love” (Cien Sonnets of Love), perhaps his best known work. As the title says, it is 100 sonnets who declare an intense love for their wife Maltide Urrutia.
The book is divided into four parts ("Morning" (Mañana), "Middle-day" (Mediadía), "Tarde" (Tard) and "Night" (Noche) and the sonnets unite a simple language to an emotional message, with rich constructions of metaphors.
Love is shown both in a sensual and spiritual way, going beyond romantic idealization, also touching the imperfection and reality of everyday love.
"I don't love you like you're salt pink, topaz
or arrow of carnations spreading fire:
I love you as you love certain dark things,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul."
Day 52 - Talk about a book of Sonnets
In 1959, Pablo Neruda published his book “One Hundred Sonnets of Love” (Cien Sonnets of Love), perhaps his best known work. As the title says, it is 100 sonnets who declare an intense love for their wife Maltide Urrutia.
The book is divided into four parts ("Morning" (Mañana), "Middle-day" (Mediadía), "Tarde" (Tard) and "Night" (Noche) and the sonnets unite a simple language to an emotional message, with rich constructions of metaphors.
Love is shown both in a sensual and spiritual way, going beyond romantic idealization, also touching the imperfection and reality of everyday love.
"I don't love you like you're salt pink, topaz
or arrow of carnations spreading fire:
I love you as you love certain dark things,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul."