Meu dodo extinto, extinguiste do mesmo modo as nossas palavras inacabadas, extintas estão também todas as nossas memórias e os sonhos morrem à beira de água. Fomos bons recordo, e sei que te é difícil aceitar assim a minhas palavras, tudo porque tudo o que sou nunca foi suficiente, tudo o que és não gosta daquilo que vê. Fomos bons gostava de recordar, e penso quase em ter-te amada um dia. Pois dia a dia tudo morre no silêncio em que me deixas. Fomos bons? Não sei.
Call me by you name
“You two had a beautiful friendship. Maybe more than a friendship. And I envy you. In my place, most parents would wish the whole thing go away… And pray their sons land on their feet. But… I am not such a parent.” We rip out so much of ourselves to be cured of things faster that we go bankrupt by the age of thirty and have less to offer each time we start with someone new. But to make yourself feel nothing so as not to feel anything — what a waste! Have I spoken too much? Then let me say one more thing. It’ll clear the air. I may have come close, but I never had what you two have. Something always held me back or stood in the way. How you live your life is your business, just remember, our hearts and our bodies are given to us only once. And before you know it, your heart is worn out, and, as for your body, there comes a point when no one looks at it, much less wants to come near it. Right now, there’s sorrow, pain. Don’t kill it and with it the joy you’ve felt.”
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