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quarta-feira, maio 26, 2004

so pretty on the terrace as the wind blows, and she, too, sways along w/ it, and not to the music whispering from the headphones. she closes her eyes hoping to drift away, hoping to find a place where her thoughts could rest. but the only place she's taken to, over and over again, is where he is, or would be, if here.
Já nao a acho a mesma, mas quem sou eu pra dizer alguma coisa. i wonder why the strawberries don't taste as good anymore. or why the grass doesn't feel as green as it did.
they shaped a shrub in to a chair, and she laughed as she tried to sit on it. so did everyone else. even the neighbor, peeking thru the window. (i wonder where that laughter has gone.) but she sits alone right now, w/ the wind blowing in as saudades. i see it. i wonder if she's able to see me from there. her lips whisper secrets to the wind no one else is invited to take part of. and the night falls, but she doesn't seem to notice the heavy laughter coming from the cozinha. estam todos a falar, a rir-se e a gozar. apesar de tanto barulho, as vozes sao como calmantes.the stars tingle her eyes. and the voices, again, resound in the air e tornam-se a musica das estrelas

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