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| The Sheep Detectives, 2026 |
ARAR
6.522
There is indeed the inexpressible. This shows itself; it is the mystical.
7
Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent.
- Ludwig Wittgenstein, Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus
litografia
claudia roquette-pinto
mas se eu uso uma palavra nova
como tivesse uma pedra na língua
áspera troca tranca trinca
maxilares dormentes
cada síbaba faz-se displicente
o acaso de estar intrometida
entre outros rumores ainda
mais dizeres
pronuncia-se esta pepita
com lábios de desagravo
enquanto em segredo relevos
de quartzo
chacoalham num alvoroço
de dentes e ditos e datas
custa o tempo de um tropeço
lapidar uma palavra
Foolishness? No, It’s Not
Mary Oliver
Sometimes I spend all day trying to count the leaves on a single tree. To do this I have to climb branch by branch and write down the numbers in a little book. So I suppose, from their point of view, it’s reasonable that my friends say: what foolishness! She’s got her head in the clouds again.
But it’s not. Of course I have to give up, but by then I’m half crazy with the wonder of it—the abundance of the leaves, the quietness of the branches, the hopelessness of my effort. And I am in that delicious and important place, roaring with laughter, full of earth-praise
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