 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
segunda-feira, julho 07, 2003
Betty Blue, de Philippe Djian
She smiled. Yes, exactly, she smiled-and against that I was defenseless. The world became insignificant. She disarmed the slightest attack. I could carry on all I wanted for show, but the poison had already reached my brain. What was this little dried-out, shrivelled-up world next to her? What was anything worth next to her hair, her lungs, her knees, and all that went with it-could I ever need anything else? Wasn't what I had something enormous, alive? It was only thanks to her that I didn't feel like a total piece of shit. I was willing to pay any price for that. It wasn't that I'd reduced the whole world down to Betty-it was just that I didn't care about the rest. She smiled, and my anger disappeared like a wet footprint in the burning sun. It would always amaze me. Cara, que lindo. O que se pose dizer sobre um texto tao lindo? Me inspirei na Wonderella e comprei o livro. Caralho, que coisa linda, essa historia. Bruna 10:16 AM
|
