Grafite 6B

Sublinhados de livros.

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“A childhood milestone, when another’s tears are more unbearable than one’s own.”

Philip Roth, The Plot Against America.

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“Procuro repetir que você morreu para que nem por um instante eu esqueça, seria terrível, vocêmorreuvocêmorreuvocêmorreu.”

Péter Esterházy, Os Verbos Auxiliares do Coração (trad.: Paulo Schiller)

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“(...) Seus cabelos negros e curtos estavam despenteados, e ela parecia mais magra do que antes, como se estivesse se tornando invisível, como se a manhã a estivesse desfazendo sem dor, mas ao mesmo tempo parecia mais bonita do que antes.”

Roberto Bolaño, Os Detetives Selvagens (trad.: Eduardo Brandão)

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"Durante toda a minha vida adulta eu mantive distância dos outros, foi a maneira que encontrei para me virar, porque me sinto tão incrivelmente próximo das pessoas nos meus pensamentos e nas minhas emoções que elas não precisam fazer mais do que me rejeitar por um instante que seja para que uma tempestade se arme dentro de mim."

Karl Ove Knausgard, Um Outro Amor (Minha Luta 2) (trad.: Guilherme da Silva Braga)

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"Vi uma lápide já deslocada - o buraco, fossa ou abismo à vista -, como que preparada para receber um novo morador, só se importunam os mortos para levar-lhes outro que seguramente amaram em vida, sem que possamos saber se esse acontecimento os alegra por voltar a ver quem conheceram mais jovem ou os entristece ainda mais ao sabê-lo reduzido a seu mesmo estado e contar com um a menos para se lembrar deles no mundo."

Javier Marías, Amanhã, na Batalha, Pensa em Mim (trad.: Eduardo Brandão)

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"Colin, de pé na esquina da praça, esperava Chloé. A praça era redonda e havia uma igreja, pombos, um jardim, bancos e, em frente, carros e ônibus no macadame. O sol também esperava Chloé, mas podia se divertir fazendo sombras, fazendo germinar sementes de feijão selvagem nos interstícios adequados, fazendo escancarar as janelas e envergonhando um poste de iluminação aceso em razão de inconsistência por parte de um lumifuncionário."

Boris Vian, A Espuma dos Dias (trad.: Paulo Werneck)

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"Depois de arrumar a casa, Adela estendia a sombra pelos quartos, puxando as cortinas de pano. As cores então desciam uma oitava, o quarto enchia-se de sombra como que imerso na luz das profundezas do mar e refletido de modo ainda mais turvo nos espelhos verdes, e todo o calor do dia respirava nas cortinas que ondulavam levemente dos sonhos dessa hora da sesta."

Bruno Schulz, Lojas de Canela (trad.: Henryk Siewierski)

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"Lane spotted her immediately, and despite whatever it was he was trying to do with his face, his arm that shot up into the air was the whole truth."

J. D. Salinger, Franny and Zooey

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"(...) A prancha ainda lá no alto, invisível daqui. Mas ela estremece e faz um som pesado de bate-e-volta e um menino que você só vê durante uns poucos centímetros contidos entre os finos degraus cai num flash de linha, um joelho dobrado no peito, fazendo um splash. Um grande ponto de exclamação de espuma entra em seu campo de visão, depois se espalha e cai num grande borbulhar. Então o som silencioso do tanque cicatrizando em novo azul outra vez."

David Foster Wallace, Para Sempre em Cima (Breves Entrevistas com Homens Hediondos). (Trad.: José Rubens Siqueira) 

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"Holding her hand was almost more than I could bear; the whole time I felt an urge to withdraw my hand to bring this unbearable happiness to an end."

Karl Ove Knausgaard, Come Together (New Yorker Feb. 17&24, 2014, trad. Don Bartlett.)

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"Nunca parece ser o momento justo, sempre pensamos que o que nos agrada ou alegra, o que nos alivia ou ajuda, o que nos move ao longo dos dias, podia ter durado um pouco mais, um ano, meses, semanas, umas tantas horas, parece que sempre é cedo demais para pôr fim às coisas ou às pessoas, nunca vemos o momento oportuno, aquele em que nós mesmos diríamos: "Chega. Está bom. Já basta, melhor assim. O que vier de agora em diante será pior, uma deterioração, um rebaixamento, uma mancha". Nunca nos atrevemos a tanto, a dizer "Este tempo passou, apesar de ser o nosso", e por isso não está em nossas mãos o final de nada, porque se dependesse delas tudo continuaria indefinidamente, contaminando-se e sujando-se, sem que nenhum vivo jamais passasse à condição de morto."

Javier Marías, Os Enamoramentos

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The grey warm evening of August had descended upon the city, and a mild warm air, a memory of summer, circulated in the streets. The streets, shuttered for the repose of Sunday, swarmed with a gaily coloured crowd. Like illumined pearls the lamps shone from the summits of their tall poles upon the living texture below, which, changing shape and hue unceasingly, sent up into the warm grey evening air an unchanging, unceasing murmur.

James Joyce, Two Gallants (Dubliners)

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The counselor on the phone in a hotel room in El Paso.

JEFE (Spanish accent) Yes. But I can only tell you what I told our friend. That there is no one to talk to.

COUNSELOR Could I come to Florida?

JEFE The Florida is closed.

COUNSELOR I would do anything you suggest.

JEFE But I have nothing to suggest, Counselor. I am sorry.

COUNSELOR We could meet someplace.

JEFE We are meeting now.

COUNSELOR There must be someone I could see.

JEFE I am afraid that there is no longer such a person. That is a thing of the past. I am afraid that there is no one to see.

COUNSELOR Please don’t hang up.

JEFE I have some time. It is all right. I am just having my lunch.

COUNSELOR There are people here.

JEFE There is no one here. The waiter. I enjoy to have my lunch alone. It is more peaceful.

COUNSELOR I’m not sure that you understand my position.

JEFE But I do, Counselor. I lost a son. Two years ago. I thought that someone would call. To demand money. But there was no call. I never saw my son again. He was sixteen.

COUNSELOR I’m sorry.

JEFE Where the bodies are buried in the desert is a certain world, Counselor. Where they are simply left in the street is another. This is a country heretofore unknown to us. But it must have always been here, must it not?

COUNSELOR I don’t know.

JEFE Si, Si. Con hielo, por favor. I’m sorry. You were saying.

The counselor is clutching the phone and leaning with the heel of his hand against his forehead, his eyes closed. He opens his eyes.

COUNSELOR I don’t know what I was saying.

JEFE People are waiting. For what? At some point you must acknowledge that this new world is at last the world. There is not some other world. It is not merely a he ate us.

COUNSELOR Hiatus.

JEFE I’m sorry.

COUNSELOR Hiatus. I believe the word is hiatus.

JEFE Hiatus. Thank you, Counselor.

COUNSELOR Will you help me?

JEFE I would urge you to see the truth in your situation, Counselor. That is my advice. It is not for me to say what you should have done. Or not done. I only know that the world in which they are are made. You are at a cross in the road and here you think to choose. But there is no choosing. There is only accepting. The choosing was done long ago.

Silence.

JEFE Are you there, Counselor?

COUNSELOR Yes.

JEFE I don’t mean to upset you, but reflective men often find themselves at a certain remove from realities of life. In any case, to prepare a place in our lives for the tragedies to come is an economy few wish to practice. Do you know the works of Machado?

COUNSELOR No. I know his name.

JEFE A lovely poet. I think his work does not translate well. But the Spanish is very beautiful. He was a schoolteacher and he married a very beautiful young girl whom he loved very much. And she died. And so he became a great poet.

COUNSELOR I’m not going to become a great poet.

JEFE Perhaps not. But even were you to do so, it would be of little help to you. Machado would have given every line he wrote for one more hour with his beloved. There is no rule of exchange here, you see. Grief transcends every value. A man would give whole nations to lift it from his heart. And yet with it you can buy nothing.

Silence. The counselor holds his wrist to his forehead, his eyes closed.

JEFE When my son was lost I would not pray for that which I should most fervently have desired. I could not.

COUNSELOR A speedy death.

JEFE I’m sorry.

COUNSELOR Why are you telling me this?

JEFE Because you stand at the crossing of which we spoke. You may dedicate your life to grief or not. The choice is yours. The assassin would claim you as well, but he will require your compliance. And of course he puts nothing of himself at hazard. He seeks to know what the warrior knows, but he has no stomach for the warrior’s way. He is a usurper and a pimp. And as he is without courage he is greatly to be feared. He would explore that realm to which we are all consigned, but his way is to send an emissary. To bring his victim to the edge of the precipice with the greatest care and then learn to inquire if there be any news. Some word amid the sobbing. Amid the bleeding and the cries. Not even in the act of love will one be the object of such solicitation and such care.

COUNSELOR Why are you telling me this?

JEFE Because you cannot accept the reality of your life.

COUNSELOR Why do you care?

JEFE Do you love your wife so completely that you would take her place upon the wheel? Not die for her. That is easy. But that your nerve would not fail you as they bend to buckle the straps?

COUNSELOR Yes. Yes, damn you.

Silence.

JEFE That is good to hear, Counselor.

COUNSELOR What are you saying? Are you saying that this is possible?

JEFE No. It is not possible. Si. Un cafecito. Por favor. Negro. Negro, si. Gracias. I’m sorry, Counselor.

COUNSELOR You said I was that man. At the crossing.

JEFE Yes. At the understanding that life will not take you back. I have no wish to paint the world in colors more somber than those it wears but as the world gives way to darkness it becomes more and more difficult to dismiss the understanding that the world is in fact oneself. It is a thing which you have created, no more, no less. And when you cease to be so will the world. There will be other world. Of course. But they are the worlds of other men and your understanding of them was never more than an illusion anyway. Your world – the only one that matters – will be gone. And it will never come again. And now I must go. I have calls to make, and then, if there is time, I will take a little nap.

The phone rings off.

Cormac McCarthy, The Counselor

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"An uninhabited house of two stories stood at the blind end, detached from its neighbours in a square ground. The other houses of the street, conscious of decent lives within them, gazed at one another with brown imperturbable faces."

James Joyce, Araby (Dubliners)

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"It’s just life. You can’t beat life."

Alice Munro, The Bear Came Over The Mountain

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"Right out in the open, on the shelf with the stains and oils, he always kept a bottle of rye. He had rye in the house as well, and he was not stingy about offering it to his company, but the drink he poured when he was alone in the shed tasted better, just as the smoke smelled better when there was nobody around to say, Oh, isn’t that lovely?"

Alice Munro, Wood

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"E a pressa vinha porque eu tinha consciência de que o que não ouvisse agora não ia ouvir mais; não ia haver repetição, como quando você ouve uma fita cassete ou assiste a um vídeo e pode retroceder, mas cada sussurro não captado nem compreendido se perderia para sempre. É o que há de ruim no que nos acontece e não é gravado, ou, pior ainda, nem mesmo sabido nem visto nem ouvido, porque depois não há forma de recuperá-lo. O dia em que não estivemos juntos já não teremos estado juntos, ou o que iam nos dizer por telefone quando nos ligaram e não respondemos nunca será dito, nunca a mesma coisa nem com o mesmo espírito; e tudo será levemente diferente ou totalmente diferente por nossa falta de atrevimento que nos dissuadiu de falar. Mas mesmo se naquele dia estivemos juntos, ou se estávamos em casa quando nos telefonaram, ou se nos atrevemos a falar vencendo o temor e esquecendo o risco, mesmo assim nada disso voltará a se repetir, por conseguinte chegará um momento em que ter estado juntos será como não ter estado, e ter atendido o telefone será como ter calado."

Javier Marías, Coração Tão Branco