::18.3.03::
Primeiro post internacional: achei que ia ter mais saco de escrever, mas com esse teclado apagado e os sinais todos fora do lugar, fica cada vez mais dificil!!! Depois da colica e de uma grande dor de garganta, uns 4 copos de cha de coca e muita altitude, cheguei no Peru! Estou aqui, em Chaclacayo, distrito de Lima, perto do meu pai, minha tia, meu tio e meu avo, quem tem 97 anos!!!!! E eh bem fofo, apesar de todas as historias que ja ouvi. Passeando bastante, comendo coisas estranhase conhecendo a faccao latina da minha vida, coisa que jah deveria ter feito, ha tempos!!!! Estoy muy feliz, e parece que a vida toma novos rumos para mim, e quando eu voltar ao Brasil volto com muito mais saudades de todos, e com vontade de contar muito mais coisas!!!!!
Espero que todos estejam bem, e que o estupido do Bush nao estrague demais a vida do mundo por esses dias.
Saudades, muitas saudades!!!! E para Will, queria muito que vc estivesse aqui! Mas mesmo assim, life goes on!
Besos a todos
:: Marcia Furriel 9:15 p.m.
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"...[R]eturning to the Red Drum for sets, to hear Bird, whom I saw distinctly digging Mardou several times also myself directly into my eye looking to search if I was really the great writer I thought myself to be as if he knew my thoughts and ambitions or remembered me from other night clubs and other coasts, other Chicagos--not a challenging look but the king and founder of the bop generation at least the sound of it in digging his audience digging his eyes, the secret eyes him-watching, as he just pursed his lips and let great lungs and immortal fingers work, his eyes separate and interested and humane, the kindest jazz musician there could be while being and therefore naturally the greatest--watching Mardou and me in the infancy of our love and probably wondering why, or knowing it wouldn't last, or seeing who it was would be hurt, as now, obviously, but not quite yet, it was Mardou whose eyes were shining in my direction, though I could not have known and now do not definitely know--except the one fact, on the way home, the session over the beer in the Mask drunk we went home on the Third Street bus sadly through night and throb knock neons and when I suddenly leaned over her to shout something further (in her secret self as later confessed) her heart leapt to smell the "sweetness of my breath" (quote) and suddenly she almost loved me--"
DO LIVRO
The Subterraneans
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