«I walked with my eyes on the path, but out of the corners of them I saw a man hiding behind an olive tree. He did not move as we approached, but I fell that he was watching us. As soon as we had passed I heard a scamper. Wilson, like a hunted animal, had made for safely. That was the last I ever saw of him.
He died last year. He had endured that life for six years. He was found one morning on the mountainside lying quite peacefully as though he had died in his sleep. From where he lay he had been able to see those two great rocks called the Faraglioni which stand out of the sea. It was full moon and he must have gone to see them by moonlight. Perhaps he died of the beauty of that sight».
W.S.M.
3 comentários:
O saber da beleza das coisas letais...
[Gosto dele. "Servidão Humana" é mesmo um dos meus livros preferidos de sempre.]
Bjs
quanto mais bela, mais letal. tão bela quanto o efeito que produz. diria até que mais bela dificilmente poderia ser.
no entanto, jamais conseguirei sentar-me em lotus, imitando a beleza mais bela.
há quem seja. outros, que o não são, ficcionam. quem é, é letal. quem não é, imagina.
bjs
perhaps he died of the beauty...
beijo meu.
B.
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