Two adults, completely baffled by a lack they couldn’t identify with anything. It was a foreign piece of what is fragile and can be our notion of normality when something disjointed appears in a place we thought we knew.
We continued to circulate in the library, unsure if it was harmless or worrying. My beloved expressed concern about toxins or hidden damage. I tried to calm her down, but I also felt uneasy. The real problem was uncertainty: our imagination fills every gap with something more.
When we finally discovered it was de fato—a harmless, viscous boil that seemed foreign, which usually appeared in humid areas—or breath, I couldn’t see it immediately.
I’m not in danger, nothing serious. Even so, the experience was marked in me.
Let’s rub the azulejos to clean them, let’s open them like janelas and, finally, remove ourselves from how we could feel nervous ones. But something gave the memory a moment. If you have a lembrete like this or something you can easily undermine our trust.
Now, as long as I enter the bank, I ask myself to stop thinking about it. Not because you experience something strange, but because, once something has helped you, it is never the same.
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