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7.12.09

Clarisse, a bela

De manhã cedo era sempre a mesma coisa renovada: acordar. O que era vagaroso, desdobrado, vasto. Vastamente ela abria os olhos. Tinha quinze anos e não era bonita.
(Clarisse Lispector, Laços de família, pág.75)

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posted by Girolamo Savonarola at 3:58 da tarde