Gosto muito disto. Descobri-o no outro dia e faz sentido. De estender a mão e abrir ao acaso um livro da prateleira – Brideshead Revisited (Evelyn Waugh), que era também aquela série muito adulta que me prendia à caixinha mágica, às terças-feiras (eu lembro-me), quando era miúdo:
This was the creature, neither child nor woman, that drove me through the dusk that spring evening, untroubled by love, taken aback by the power of her own beauty, hesitating on the cool edge of life; one who had suddenly found herself armed, unawares; the heroine of a fairy story turning over in her hands the magic ring; she had only to stroke it with her fingertips and whisper the charmed word, for the earth to open at her feet and belch forth her titanic servant, the fawning monster who would bring her whatever she asked, but bring it, perhaps, in unwelcome shape.
She had no interest in me that evening; the jinn rumbled below us uncalled; she lived apart in a little world, within a little world, the innermost of a system of concentric spheres, like the ivory balls laboriously carved in China; a little problem troubling her mind – little, as she saw it, in abstract terms and symbols. She was wondering, dispassionately and leagues distant from reality, whom she should love.
Muito bom. Muito “on the cool edge of life”.
This was the creature, neither child nor woman, that drove me through the dusk that spring evening, untroubled by love, taken aback by the power of her own beauty, hesitating on the cool edge of life; one who had suddenly found herself armed, unawares; the heroine of a fairy story turning over in her hands the magic ring; she had only to stroke it with her fingertips and whisper the charmed word, for the earth to open at her feet and belch forth her titanic servant, the fawning monster who would bring her whatever she asked, but bring it, perhaps, in unwelcome shape.
She had no interest in me that evening; the jinn rumbled below us uncalled; she lived apart in a little world, within a little world, the innermost of a system of concentric spheres, like the ivory balls laboriously carved in China; a little problem troubling her mind – little, as she saw it, in abstract terms and symbols. She was wondering, dispassionately and leagues distant from reality, whom she should love.
Muito bom. Muito “on the cool edge of life”.
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