Only those who've never seen a baobab tree do not realize why people here believe that it's planted upside down, said Calisto Magisto.
Then continued to scratch the ground with the stick that he'd ripped from the bush under which Gertrudes, the cheetah, decided to face death.
As a consequence.
Of a territorial fight.
A stiff body as beautiful as rotten.
Wounds and blood and worms and eyes half closed.
A figure of grandeur of yore.
Sara Suri pretended to look at this Grand Ambassador of the Vegetable Kingdom.
It really looked weird.
Even more so now.
Against the dusky twilight.
But she was staring at his hands instead.
Long fingers.
Nails so nicely drawn.
All this at the end of both square palms.
Huge.
That she imagined, over and over, almost every day, holding her against the wall.
Tightly contained.
But powerful.
We look like two baboons, sitting here! was the most lucid thing she could bring out of her mouth at that time.
As if to exorcise the thin sand that already started to stir in the hourglass of her belly.
Lending some juices that she felt slipping out from her.
Knees nervously knocking against each other.
While trying to blow in the wind all those lustful ideas.
The smell of bonfires in the air.
The heat.
If it's for this, I do want to be a baboon, he said.
They both meant the fact that they're sitting on top of a termite mound.
At sunset.
Like those apes.
The dominant male at the highest point.
A sentinel.
Vigilant to the slightest sign of danger.
But he was unable not to think about the promiscuity that's so characteristic of that species.
Then continued to scratch the ground with the stick that he'd ripped from the bush under which Gertrudes, the cheetah, decided to face death.
As a consequence.
Of a territorial fight.
A stiff body as beautiful as rotten.
Wounds and blood and worms and eyes half closed.
A figure of grandeur of yore.
Sara Suri pretended to look at this Grand Ambassador of the Vegetable Kingdom.
It really looked weird.
Even more so now.
Against the dusky twilight.
But she was staring at his hands instead.
Long fingers.
Nails so nicely drawn.
All this at the end of both square palms.
Huge.
That she imagined, over and over, almost every day, holding her against the wall.
Tightly contained.
But powerful.
We look like two baboons, sitting here! was the most lucid thing she could bring out of her mouth at that time.
As if to exorcise the thin sand that already started to stir in the hourglass of her belly.
Lending some juices that she felt slipping out from her.
Knees nervously knocking against each other.
While trying to blow in the wind all those lustful ideas.
The smell of bonfires in the air.
The heat.
If it's for this, I do want to be a baboon, he said.
They both meant the fact that they're sitting on top of a termite mound.
At sunset.
Like those apes.
The dominant male at the highest point.
A sentinel.
Vigilant to the slightest sign of danger.
But he was unable not to think about the promiscuity that's so characteristic of that species.
These two will never make love to each other.
Not even a single kiss.
Thus understanding why Nature offered us a human body.
So that we can really listen our heart.
And the image of these two, silhouetted against the sunset, the odd tree at the other end, would have made a nice shot.
But as always...
... Didn't bring my camera.
Not even a single kiss.
Thus understanding why Nature offered us a human body.
So that we can really listen our heart.
And the image of these two, silhouetted against the sunset, the odd tree at the other end, would have made a nice shot.
But as always...
... Didn't bring my camera.
Sem comentários:
Enviar um comentário