Foi no sábado e foi ontem. Sábado houve várias iniciativas, e terminei o dia no Festival do Caracol, da Comissão de Festas, muito depois da luz da tarde ter lançado sombras etruscas sobre o pavimento. Ontem foi o 92º aniversário da Casa do Alentejo. Com as Brisas do Guadiana e com o Grupo Coral da Casa do Povo do Sobral da Adiça. Nos salões sumptuosos da Casa do Alentejo. Pairavam musas sobre nós...
As maratonas sucedem-se. Amanhã há mais.
My Shadow
I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,
And what can be the use of him is more than I can see.
He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head;
And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed.
The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow—
Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow;
For he sometimes shoots up taller like an india-rubber ball,
And he sometimes gets so little that there's none of him at all.
He hasn't got a notion of how children ought to play,
And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way.
He stays so close beside me, he's a coward you can see;
I'd think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!
One morning, very early, before the sun was up,
I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup;
But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head,
Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.
(Robert Louis Stevenson)
A escultura é de Santiago Elejalde.
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