03 de dezembro de 2015 | 14h31
In a comfortable armchair, rubbing her joints, legs tucked under a thick cover. She grimaces and I see her eyes have reddened with bashful tears. Looking through the large closed window she stayed for hours. Only the two of us awake, still dark and damp outside. January.
Was she contemplating a swift escape from all her pains? Or was she staring into the darkness as a way to distract her brain from all that suffering?
When the first stretch of sunlight hit the glass, she turned and smiled at me. And I smiled back, not saying anything.
After all these years during which I have missed her so much, I still don’t have an answer. And now I finally take her place in front of that same old window, feeling my joints cracking into dust under my overweighed body. And I still cannot grasp her thoughts.