Memories

She is like the sun. She brings with her all the calmness and the storms that inhabits the world. She is the resplendent horizon, the sound of joyful birds, the dawn that brings good news, the heavenly sweetness, the cruel damnation, the irremediable silence. She is now also an absence and her heart suffers from a longing that leaves her sick and sad. 

How to return to her arms, to her presence? An abysmal distance separates them and with that she only finds questions without answers. Their paths have changed, night has fallen and not even her voice can be heard. However, the fairy needs to be honest. Lately, she managed to be happy again. To be away from her presence, however, makes her feel like something is missing from her life. Because of that, what she feels is another kind of joy.

But she needs to say how she regained her happiness, even if it is a happiness so different from the one she had when she was near the sunflower, surrounded by trees and the castle. It's a good feeling that comes from her work and from her friends - who make her laugh - and from the task she gave herself, which is: to dedicate herself to fall in love with being alive again.

But, she would be lying if she said that she feels complete. Never before had she experienced such sensation. And, despite the recent joys, she really wants to shout out to the world all the love that flows from her chest and all the longing she feels for her. She just wanted to be able to have her close, hear her laugh, watch her way of talking and looking. How can someone have such deep eyes?

She sees the world in details, she knows how to observe and emanate all the most sincere answers, that comes from her very intelligent findings. Maybe that's what she misses the most: her intelligence. She had never known anyone who had such wit and such vast knowledge. At the same time, there are so many other qualities in her, that this is just one in a whirlwind of good things.

And that's why the fairy writes, to leave printed in her confession journal all the records of the fairy's perspective on her beloved. She writes to release all the emotions stuck in her throat, to try to heal herself of this searing passion, to try to reframe the image she has of her, to try to get this feeling out of her heart and spread it everywhere.

Of course, the sunflower was not exactly a passion. Actually, what the fairy wants is to talk about love. How could she believe she felt such a genuine feeling, relying only on months of closeness? She doesn't know, but that is the thing about love, isn't it? She loves her and that's the truth. She loves her like she's never loved another song. It's profound, simple, selfless, a little painful and nonsensical. 

It is a love of the worst kind: unrequited, impossible, unusual. But, the fairy doesn't want to end her writing in a sad way. At least, not for today. She will end her confession with happy phrases, with happy memories and sweet words. She will tell about this strong and incisive sunflower, who invaded her life to save her, to show her a new world, to make her believe more in herself and in life. 

Knowing the sunflower was the greatest gift of her existence, it was recognizing what love is capable of, it was learning how to be sunny and love herself, it was everything she always wanted, in the form of afternoons with coffee, confessions, smiles and an eternity of discoveries.

12082022: Die fast vergessene Sehnsucht

O agora

Um dia, ela olhou para o espelho e decidiu todo o rumo da sua vida. Depois, seus sonhos ficaram guardados em um subconsciente torto, no qual ela já não conseguia mais acessar. Pelo menos por um tempo. Em seguida, em cada amanhecer, o rosto dela passou a desvanecer da sua memória. Mas, mesmo assim, a sensação deixada pelo encontro outonal persistia.

Ao seu redor, todos questionam esta paixão tola, que a acometeu surpreendentemente, mas que parece tão óbvia para seus amigos. Depois, lembra que a sua escrita em seu diário de confissões não deve ser mais para falar de flores que secaram com o inverno. Não, agora ela contempla de sua janela o oceano azul e o sol intenso de suas terras. No calor, em sua torre, cercada daqueles que a amam, tudo parece mais fácil e deglutível. 

Através da ausência de sua amada, estar longe se torna um exercício menos doloroso. A imperatriz dos girassóis jamais retornará. É por isso que decidiu seguir, tentando não olhar para trás. Alles ist verdammt und sie sucht nochmal der Frieden. Todavia, por onde começar a se libertar de uma imagem que preenche seus pensamentos a cada mudança de turno do dia?

É como se seu coração estivesse chamando por ela a todo momento: quando o sol nasce e quando ele parte, quando os olhos se fecham e se abrem, quando mira alguma coisa que a faz lembrar dos seus sorrisos e olhares. Contudo, as suas frases estão perdidas no meio dos campos floridos que ela deixou em sua aura. Porque o momento não é de devanear sobre ela e sim de transformar a sua jornada, criar novos sentidos para que outras caminhadas surjam. 

Mas, é difícil abandonar esta quase canção, que a confundiu e a deixou pensativa sobre suas ações. Talvez, a fada esteja subestimando a sua própria inteligência. Não seria a primeira vez. É recorrente que ela ignore a sua intuição e as suas interpretações  para que, lá na frente, descubra que já havia compreendido cada detalhe das pistas e sentenças que tinham sido dadas. 

No entanto, do que importa se suas teorias coincidem com a verdade? O girassol é feito de silêncio e, de certo, já esqueceu do seu nome, da sua face e de seus encontros. De fato, há uma briga em sua mente, na qual ela acaba decidindo por acreditar que o girassol não se importa com ela. É um tanto mais fácil crer nesta afirmação. Indiferente, a sua amada segue contente, rumo aos braços do seu companheiro perfeito, forte e atlético. 

Porque existem os fatos e os seus sonhos. Eles não coincidem. Então, é necessário que abra os olhos de vez, guarde os cartões, os bilhetes e os recados bem guardados e siga rumo em direção do novo. Se um dia ela encontrar as suas missivas confessionais, a fada espera que o girassol a compreenda. Se um dia seus destinos se cruzarem novamente, que a fada tenha forças para enfrentar os seus sentimentos escondidos e disfarçados. Se a sua fábula se concretizar em algum momento, que a sabedoria adquirida nesta nova fase jamais a abandone. 

Epílogo

No mais, a fada solicita para aquela que consome suas palavras que não continue fazendo isso. Do que adianta ficar correndo atrás de informações que já não mais procedem e aconteceram há tanto tempo? Em sua mente borbulhante, ela tenta decifrar quem a acompanha. Talvez seja a escudeira de seus pensamentos velados. Talvez seja a deusa destronada, que aparece para checar sobre os novos trajetos de seu coração. Talvez seja a borboleta - apesar desta opção ser bastante improvável. Mas, talvez sejam todas elas ou nenhuma delas. 

Não importa. O que é relevante é que já não sabe mais se continua a escrever, justamente porque está sendo lida. Veja bem, a fada sempre foi atormentada por canções insatisfeitas com a sua escrita. Mas, elas sempre se revelavam e, assim, tudo fazia sentido. Era apenas escrever e esquecer do seu diário, deixando ele bem longe da sua lembrança, em seu cotidiano. Recentemente, passou a se sentir rondada por essa dúvida e chegou a cogitar a encerrar as suas cartas para músicas que tocam sem avisar. 

Contudo, hoje, ela continua. Não há muito como saber do que ela está falando, a não ser que quem esteja lendo viva/tenha vivido as situações ao seu lado. Então, a fada se despede da cara leitora, com um desejo de que ela encontre o que está buscando em suas frases desconexas. Seja para a sua análise, sua curiosidade, nostalgia, seu gosto por coisas mal escritas ou qualquer outra razão, que encontre o que quer. 

The true meaning of that path

She invades her dreams, gliding through the dawn. She is faithful to her subconscious and does not leave her heart so easily. She owns her prayers, desires and wishes. She is infinity in time and space, the most honorable and heavenly song of all. She, who is light and serenity for her aura, is also the fruit of damnation and longing.

How was her face? When dawn breaks, memory gets weak and she feels dizzy trying to recover the moments in which she was so happy. Everything seems to have been a distant daydream, including the almost tragic end of her existence. Every detail of the past fades away and all she can remember is the warmth that emerged from the flowering fields of her favorite place.

Perhaps, she is recovering her senses and putting aside this inconsequential passion, which brought joy, but also misfortune. Perhaps, with the rainy summer of her lands, everything will look like a silly and unrealistic fantasy. Perhaps, that was the only moment to be completely happy and she accepts this gift from the Universe willingly. Because now the bells don't ring anymore and she already knows what she needs to do.

All the pleasures return when she abandons the desire to have the same fullness as when she looked at the castle and then had the chance to look inside her deep and revealing eyes. It's as if all the answers were always there, at her disposal, and only after so many months could she clearly see the whole adventure, that is marked with an overflowing ember on her skin.

While one had the whole truth exposed in front of her, with letters inside confusing diaries or long revealing conversations, the other gained clues in subtext format. In fact, the fairy always knew everything, but she deceived herself, so she could continue to enjoy such fleeting happiness. In the present, she knows even more about what the future could be, but she gives up on having control of the impossible.

If her eyes are consuming her words for so long and yet silence is reigning sparkling, it is because it will be like that, forever and ever, not mattering how much the emotions or possible enchantments are inside of her. If she doesn't want to stay, it's because she knows her limits and offers what she can offer, in the form of kind phrases or organized actions.

However, the fairy also knows that there is more inside the sunflower than she even knows. Her soul is like a stream, which is not always calm, polished and sensible. In her calculated steps there is also a hidden mess, which she seeks to bury. But, she no longer wants to focus on subtextual analysis of those who no longer admire her and will not be present in her life.

She wants freedom, sun, wind. She wants calmness, protection and coherence in her journey. It is for this reason that, no matter which side of the ocean she is on, she will intensely observe all those around her. Then, she will listen to the advice given to her on a rainy afternoon and will face the sunflower as in the beginning of everything, before the enchantment.

This will certainly be the most arduous task she has ever performed, but in the distance and isolation in her colorful tower, she will manage to achieve the desired success in her new profane attempt. After all, she was never a song, was she? And that is a mistake that the fairy can never make again.