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20.12.05

Querer

O frio, a intempérie, a chuva, o nevoeiro, a tristeza sincopada nos dias derradeiros do ano – certezas incrustadas na pele, a desesperança sazonal da meteorologia. Se te amasse o Inverno não era o último abrigo da melancolia, era talvez um dia de Verão cercado de sombras e morte.

posted by Girolamo Savonarola at 4:38 da tarde