Acabei por ir lá parar numa noite de frio. Ia a caminho daquela terra transmontana chamada Chaves, mas a neve aduaneira não me deixou passar para lá dos montes. O Norte tinha-se camuflado de branco. E eu tinha-o perdido. A urze e as fragas de granito de Miguel Torga tinham formado uma irmandade imbatível. Segredando entre elas, tinham combinado que iriam tomar o espaço ao alcatrão e pavimentar tudo à sua maneira. E assim o fizeram. Vestiram-se todas de fato branco, acabado de engomar, tal qual um exército de milhões. Viesse quem viesse, não havia nada a fazer. O ferrolho de gelo havia isolado Trás-os-Montes.
Ao sentir-me renegada virei mais a Sul. Desta vez era o vento e a chuva que indicavam o caminho. A noite tinha tombado com todo o seu peso à minha volta e o rádio emitia um código indecifrável que tinia repetidamente. Acabei por me livrar dele.
Não conhecia a estrada que percorria e esperava que o nosso diálogo fosse breve. Ao ser assolada pelos golpes de chuva que retumbava encorajada pelo vento, a estrada mantinha uma voz áspera. Desejava pelo momento de separação. No entanto, ela era agora a única companhia. O preto e o branco preenchiam o meu campo de visão, num itinerário intermitente. Sabia que este percurso monocromático me preparava para um destino, ali mais à frente.
Ansiava pela última linha recta e queria agora uma curva à direita. Quando esse momento chegou, ainda haviam outras curvas a descobrir. A estrada continuava a sugerir pistas que eu recolhia. Apareciam várias circunferências, as quais tinham que ser cuidadosamente delineadas até saber em que ponto deveria abandoná-las. Enquanto isto, as bermas da estrada falavam de uma ponte seguida de um fontanário. Avisavam também que haveria um sítio onde um lobo estava aninhado e prestes a acordar.
De súbito, a estrada emudeceu, mas a sua presença sibilante ainda soava nos meus ouvidos. Ela tinha-me levado a um portão branco e à minha frente estava uma casa branca. Afinal a barreira de cristais cintilantes tinha entrado numa demanda para me trazer aqui. Nas paredes lia “Visitas”. Saí do carro e dirigi-me a uma porta igualmente branca. Quando a abri fui surpreendida com amigos, que se cruzavam ao longo de duas salas musicadas. Entre eles partilhavam acordes e versos. Partilhavam igualmente o movimento de uma garrafa que se precipitava para derramar os seus segredos. As duas salas eram separadas por um cristal. Numa delas, havia quadros com luzes que pululavam ao compasso das histórias narradas. Noutra, havia vários instrumentos que permaneciam vibrantes no ar. O chão das salas estava decorado com linhas pretas distribuídas aleatoriamente. Essas linhas ligavam as duas divisões. Percebi que o que se passava numa sala teria impacto na outra. Sentei-me para ver o que iria acontecer deste lado do cristal. Ao meu lado estava agora um lobo aninhado que espreguiçava no chão, abrindo os olhos passo a passo, prestes a acordar.
DanielaCôrtessMaduro
On a winter’s night
I arrived on a cold night. I was heading to a town behind the hills, but the snow didn’t let me go through. The North was under-covered. And I have lost it. The heather and the granite rocks described by Miguel Torga had founded an invincible brotherhood. Whispering between them, they have arranged to take the tarmac’s place and pave the floor their own way. And so they did it. They have dressed themselves with an ironed white suit and they have turned themselves into an army of a million. There was no way through. The icy lock had isolated Trás-os-Montes region.
I felt rejected and turned South. This time the wind and rain leaded the way. The night had fallen heavily around me and the radio spoke through a steady, unbreakable code. I finally decided to get reed of it.
I didn’t know the road and I was hoping our dialog would come to an end. It was being assaulted by a rain encouraged by the wind and spoke with a harsh voice. I was wishing for the moment we broke up. However the road was my only friend. My vision was trapped within a black and white landscape, a twitching itinerary. I knew this monochromatic travel was preparing me for a destination, ahead.
I was longing for the last straight line and I now wanted a curve at my right side. When that moment came, there were much more curves to discover. The road kept on giving me hints which I followed. There were plenty of circles, which I was supposed to carefully delineate until I reached an exit point. During this, the road hedges were telling me about a bridge followed by a fountain. They also warned me about a place where a wolf was curled, almost awaked.
Suddenly, the road was silent, but its sibilant voice was still present in my head. It has taken me to a white gate. There was also a white house in front of me. After all, the white crystals’ barrier had kept a secret plan to lead me here. On the walls it was written “Visitors”. I stepped out of the car and I went towards an equally white door. When I opened it I was surprised to find some friends, walking along two rooms filled with music. They shared chords and verses. They also shared the movement of a bottle leaning over to reveal its secrets. The two rooms were separated by a crystal. In one of them, there were frames with lights twinkling to the beat of the stories which were being told. In the other, there were instruments vibrating suspended in the air. The living room floor was decorated with randomly distributed black lines. These lines linked both rooms. I understood that whatever took place in one room would have an impact on the second. So I sat down on this side of the crystal to see what might happen. By my side there was a wolf curled up on the floor. It was gradually opening his eyes, almost awaked.
DanielaCôrtesMaduro
Ao sentir-me renegada virei mais a Sul. Desta vez era o vento e a chuva que indicavam o caminho. A noite tinha tombado com todo o seu peso à minha volta e o rádio emitia um código indecifrável que tinia repetidamente. Acabei por me livrar dele.
Não conhecia a estrada que percorria e esperava que o nosso diálogo fosse breve. Ao ser assolada pelos golpes de chuva que retumbava encorajada pelo vento, a estrada mantinha uma voz áspera. Desejava pelo momento de separação. No entanto, ela era agora a única companhia. O preto e o branco preenchiam o meu campo de visão, num itinerário intermitente. Sabia que este percurso monocromático me preparava para um destino, ali mais à frente.
Ansiava pela última linha recta e queria agora uma curva à direita. Quando esse momento chegou, ainda haviam outras curvas a descobrir. A estrada continuava a sugerir pistas que eu recolhia. Apareciam várias circunferências, as quais tinham que ser cuidadosamente delineadas até saber em que ponto deveria abandoná-las. Enquanto isto, as bermas da estrada falavam de uma ponte seguida de um fontanário. Avisavam também que haveria um sítio onde um lobo estava aninhado e prestes a acordar.
De súbito, a estrada emudeceu, mas a sua presença sibilante ainda soava nos meus ouvidos. Ela tinha-me levado a um portão branco e à minha frente estava uma casa branca. Afinal a barreira de cristais cintilantes tinha entrado numa demanda para me trazer aqui. Nas paredes lia “Visitas”. Saí do carro e dirigi-me a uma porta igualmente branca. Quando a abri fui surpreendida com amigos, que se cruzavam ao longo de duas salas musicadas. Entre eles partilhavam acordes e versos. Partilhavam igualmente o movimento de uma garrafa que se precipitava para derramar os seus segredos. As duas salas eram separadas por um cristal. Numa delas, havia quadros com luzes que pululavam ao compasso das histórias narradas. Noutra, havia vários instrumentos que permaneciam vibrantes no ar. O chão das salas estava decorado com linhas pretas distribuídas aleatoriamente. Essas linhas ligavam as duas divisões. Percebi que o que se passava numa sala teria impacto na outra. Sentei-me para ver o que iria acontecer deste lado do cristal. Ao meu lado estava agora um lobo aninhado que espreguiçava no chão, abrindo os olhos passo a passo, prestes a acordar.
DanielaCôrtessMaduro
On a winter’s night
I arrived on a cold night. I was heading to a town behind the hills, but the snow didn’t let me go through. The North was under-covered. And I have lost it. The heather and the granite rocks described by Miguel Torga had founded an invincible brotherhood. Whispering between them, they have arranged to take the tarmac’s place and pave the floor their own way. And so they did it. They have dressed themselves with an ironed white suit and they have turned themselves into an army of a million. There was no way through. The icy lock had isolated Trás-os-Montes region.
I felt rejected and turned South. This time the wind and rain leaded the way. The night had fallen heavily around me and the radio spoke through a steady, unbreakable code. I finally decided to get reed of it.
I didn’t know the road and I was hoping our dialog would come to an end. It was being assaulted by a rain encouraged by the wind and spoke with a harsh voice. I was wishing for the moment we broke up. However the road was my only friend. My vision was trapped within a black and white landscape, a twitching itinerary. I knew this monochromatic travel was preparing me for a destination, ahead.
I was longing for the last straight line and I now wanted a curve at my right side. When that moment came, there were much more curves to discover. The road kept on giving me hints which I followed. There were plenty of circles, which I was supposed to carefully delineate until I reached an exit point. During this, the road hedges were telling me about a bridge followed by a fountain. They also warned me about a place where a wolf was curled, almost awaked.
Suddenly, the road was silent, but its sibilant voice was still present in my head. It has taken me to a white gate. There was also a white house in front of me. After all, the white crystals’ barrier had kept a secret plan to lead me here. On the walls it was written “Visitors”. I stepped out of the car and I went towards an equally white door. When I opened it I was surprised to find some friends, walking along two rooms filled with music. They shared chords and verses. They also shared the movement of a bottle leaning over to reveal its secrets. The two rooms were separated by a crystal. In one of them, there were frames with lights twinkling to the beat of the stories which were being told. In the other, there were instruments vibrating suspended in the air. The living room floor was decorated with randomly distributed black lines. These lines linked both rooms. I understood that whatever took place in one room would have an impact on the second. So I sat down on this side of the crystal to see what might happen. By my side there was a wolf curled up on the floor. It was gradually opening his eyes, almost awaked.
DanielaCôrtesMaduro
