Posts Tagged ‘chronic’

Van Gogh

Saturday, December 22nd, 2012

It does not incur into the gross error that to think that I am the same person the time all. It loves who me of hates me to night of day I am so different of me exactly when the day amanhece. It is of night that more I look like myself same me. Of day I am lethargy, of night I am joy and peace. If this seems madness is not guilt mine, therefore it loved me to the night first that the day, and the day that had always me me disdained and loved never me.

It made me to the day wounded that only the night has to be able to cure, therefore I do not sleep, not to die. (When I to die, there yes, will sleep.) The blackout and the solitude land on water always me more than the light (that for me it is darknesses) I prefer the light of candles any another light. The ghosts that I look for in my past if leave to see better to the light of candles I know beings of the light of the day, are flat and superficial. They lack the olheiras of the sleeplessness, the pressure-high one of the notvagos, mustaches of a Nietzsche, the anguish of a Florbela Espanca, the pessimism of a Schopenhauer, the madness of a Van Gogh, the melancholy to them of Caio Fernando Abreu. It lacks it to them chronic depression of a Ceclia Meireles, and the joy ahead of the death of a Wittgenstein. It lacks the surrealismo of a Salvador Dali, and the sad look and the burial voice to them of Johnny Cash. They lack as many things to them It lacks to them, over all to learn with Manoel de Barros which is the value of the said things duds. Some of these prophets of the dawn had said me certain time that the night is escape.