Cada Coisa: em seu lugar

De Pedro Moreira Nt

Um conto. Coisa pequena, uma folhas que mais nao sujam o nosso jardim. Contradicoes. O catador de folhas, os objetos que usa. A pessoa, algo de invasivo ao lugar do outro. Que entra na intimidade do outro, ataca seus objetos, destrói o que lhe seja bom, pertinente, pertencente.
A resiliencia. O suporte que vem do conhecido.
O desespero silencioso. A fragilidade pisada; fortaleza entristecida.
Covardia e misérias transferidas para um outro assunto, longe das tecnologias, aparatos, definições grupais (que sejam mesmo as vontades perdidas ou nunca tidas) da falta ou ausência de caráter.
Por em ordem. Dispor a ordem. Anular.
- Ninguém acredita, ninguém acredita! Uma loucura, gira, acende as luzes, magnífico espetáculo natural.
- Natural?
Ajustar o mundo de acordo com os níveis que se acreditam existentes na natureza.
Depoimento, uma espécie de gravação a ser paga. Um desfavor a qualquer coisa, a essa humanidade encerrada no objeto.
Pequenos interesses sustentados por um escaninho viver.
Despropósito ao alheio. Assalto.
Assassinato de um bem familiar que desconhece por viver aleatoriamente, sem chão, como folha que cai.
Desplante. Descaso em relação a qualquer um.
A formação técnica, a vida em busca de sentidos, mas sem sentimentos.
Emoções jogadas sobre o monturo de valores monetários.
Espécie de vírus que atravessa a carne. Liberta almas.
Cair também faz subir, voar.
A folha do jardim e a viagem para Casablanca.

• Idioma: Português
• Editora: Pedro Moreira Nt
• Data de lançamento: 28 de abr. de 2020
• ISBN: 9780463292969

Pedro Moreira Nt

Who I amPedro Moreira NtI have been a writer since infancy; my father influenced me with reasonable asks to do that the best possible, and my mother, too, read to me, I have been a writer since infancy; my father influenced me with reasonable asks to do that the best possible, and my mother, too, read to me, and at both comes a song walking my mind, sweetness and lovely goodness. I am critical of that; I desire to create a mist of essay, but my preference for poem structure and sensibility do not long of art. So, I seek romanticizing concepts and developing a new sense of literature that happens in its movement. I leave it to the reader to do part of that; they create a truthful text and can do a good book. It is the interpretation, the way, a leap beyond what a word says, transforming our lives when they share.My first writings, chronic stories, participated in my soul. It was extremely critical and sarcastic about what I saw from reality.I am talking of a fifties age period behind. In a position about what I developed, my evolution was more toward apparent expressionism and realism with wave poetical intermain. I do not know, and I am a writer by chance by life.I wait to create something more dense and fragile so that a reader can discover more insight and make the story.I write all day. I threw out many texts, books, and theatre, left at home friends, gave up on other works, abandoned along the path, and presented in different ways when it was impossible.I have not had a time in which I did not have difficulties showing my art, or I was, for some reason, prohibited from showing, or people made oyster faces and bodies, seeing down shoes, putting me out because, beyond writing, I talk. And when I speak, I create conflict with conceptualistic people. I am intervenient into the academy and ideological corpus, into radicalism free. I am more definitive when I believe in what I say and highly flexible when people do not know what I am saying.My themes are variant, and many circumstances bring me a gift, a motive to write. I wrote in Portuguese two books that I like, "Lirio" - Lille, and "O Peixinho do Pantanal" - The Little Fish from Pantanal (Wetlands), and both meant creation, jump to beyond, overcome, transformation social and personal release.From that, I wrote other books seeking to show different meanings throughout of phantasy necessary, and it to parents and children a fantastic universe of possibilities for a personal construction, making life an adventure.I create a pedagogical process to write and design tangled images where it is possible to seek the theme of a short story. "Lippi and Semma Friendship" talks about that, and I wrote that short story through it. They led me to social problems, injuries, differences, the orthodoxy of community rules, cultural values, the barriers around democracy and its meaning, and the gratitude for a true friendship."Letter to the Moon" is a short love story, but love yourself, and send a letter to the Moon through a pebble launched for.Books about freedom, encountering people, loss, and gains, and becoming someone.Book for radicality of right in that it does not see your bottom."Bakery," for example, talks about that.I finished a short story made of challenges and adventures: "Memories of the Air." - from you start reading until the end, the thing is in action, in movement, an eternal fugue or secrets, and does not reveal its net. The reader will discover.

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Cada coisa em seu lugar

Pedro Moreira Nt

An short history

Publicado por

Pedro Moreira Nt

Copyright, 2020

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Cada coisa em seu lugar

This book was produced by Pedro Moreira Nt, 2020.

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Uma folha que cai da arvore ao jardim, nem me irrita, duas, que sejam dez, ainda me contenho. Mas cem, duzentas, isso incomoda.

Folha como folha tem cara de folha, cheira e parece mesmo com folha. Deteriora.

Ha um erro claro, mas na sombra do problema. Esse erro, vez e outra sai para passear, cai. Vem ao chão com naturalidade de pára-quedista. Tem mais cara de desapego.

Um deixar rolar a vida no ar dos momentos. Acontece, e cada coisa em seu lugar, digo, nao esta no lugar um mundo sem ordem. Nasce o mar ou se faz de nascido, fica naquele horizonte, do outro esta Casablanca, e ninguém diz nada. Que coisa certa pode ser se falta água.

A ordem do mundo fica sem lugar. Nao cabe em si um mundo abrupto, feito de tal natureza a esquivar o que um necessita e o outro nao alcanca. Entropia e entalpia, componentes românticos da democracia. Injusto. Sabe-se que tudo se estropia.

Se cai folhas das arvores e eu as junto, injusto. Se chove sobre cactos. Infelicidade de quem quer sol e vem a tempestade. O vento esbarra nas coisas sem pedir licenca e vai levando, para o meu infortunio de por as coisas no lugar. Qual lugar?

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