Fundação Calouste Gulbenkian, Lisboa. 
Exposição: Fernando Pessoa, Plural como o Universo
24.04.12

Eu gostava, enquanto criador, de assumir uma posição autocrática: levar o espectador para dentro de um mundo que eu construísse, onde quem ditava as regras era eu. Ele podia manter a distância e a liberdade do seu juízo crítico, mas primeiro tinha de entrar dentro da obra (ou do espaço, mas alargado da exposição). E, tendo entrado, estava apanhado como um pássaro numa gaiola, até encontrar a porta de saída. Enquanto estivesse dentro sujeitava-se a uma experiência, ou a uma vivência, que até certo ponto eu determinava. Aceitava ver o que eu propunha, de algum modo através dos meus olhos. Só depois era livre de olhar outra vez com os seus, e recusar tudo se quisesse. Era a sua vez de jogar, na segunda parte do jogo. Mas a primeira jogada era minha.

Teolinda Gersão, A Cidade de Ulisses

Counting Sheep

After lying in bed for over an hour trying to fall asleep, I decided I’d attempt the famous ‘sheep counting’ method. I closed my eyes and tried to visualize sheep jumping over a fence so I could start my descent into wonderland. However, I soon found I just couldn’t do it. No sheep appeared and the fence was left untouched. I opened my eyes, and gazed into the darkness that enveloped my room. My eyes were tired, so I closed them once again – this was it, second attempt. This time, though, something incredible happened: instead of sheep on a lawn, I was seeing a vast and deserted icy land, when suddenly a penguin flew right before my eyes, accordingly I counted: one. Then, so many penguins started darting before my eyes that I couldn’t even count them all. If this was supposed to get me to sleep I doubt it would work as I was feeling flustered for not even being able to count a few penguins, so I eventually just watched them zooming past me, back and forth they went, slowly rocking me into a slumber.

Sometimes, having a clear destination in mind is all one really wants.
(photo taken at Lake-Bled's train station, Slovenia)

Amongst Fish

I was in an aquarium. Glass surrounded me and people were constantly walking past, peeking in curiously, sometimes they would wave goofily. The other fish in the aquarium were all different from one another: some were of a completely different species yet we all got along with each other, even if it meant not talking with each other, or establishing eye contact for that matter.

I was concentrating on what was in front of me: some stones shaped like hearts when, suddenly, I was interrupted by the waitress:

‘The usual coffee, dear?’

‘Yes, please. Could you also bring me a glass of water?’

‘Sure thing.’

A friend of mine walked past the cafe, looked in, spotted me, and waved. I waved back and hoped he wouldn’t come in and expect to chat. I really wasn’t in the mood. In fact, I really wished I were a fish so my memory would only last three seconds, because then I wouldn’t have to remember what happened last week. I still couldn’t believe I had acted so immaturely. I feel myself blush every time I think of it.

He walked in. I sucked it all in and smiled.

‘Hey,’ I said smoothly.

Some secrets are best kept secret

My grandmother was sitting next to me on the sofa. She had on a blouse that had belonged to her great-grandmother. It was an amazing item of clothing – not only because it had been in the family for so long, but because it had an impressive jewel encrusted on one of the buttons.

We sat there calmly talking about her 80^th birthday which was only 8 days away, when lo and behold the jewel seemed to gain a life of its own: some type of smoke started being secreted by it and it slowly rose into the air in front of her, held on to the blouse by one of the threads which had bolted it down for so many years, and just hovered there.

My grandmother was so excited, telling me about the lunch menu that she didn’t notice it straight away, but she saw my gaze, awe-struck as I was, my eyes glued to that magical rock. She stopped speaking and glanced down at her blouse. Her eyes opened wide, before she swiftly knocked the jewel away with her hand. It fell immediately to the floor and the smoke extinguished itself.

‘Gran, what the hell was that?’

‘Nothing you need to worry about for now my dear,’ she said calmly. Too calmly.

Stranded

It’s a rainy morning,

yet you’re waiting there.

The wind blows your long

and flowing hair

into your beautiful face.

You don’t move it.

You just stand there,

grasping your purse.

Your dress and cardigan

flow in the wind,

but still it doesn’t bother you.

Who are you waiting for?

Why are you so lonely?

Who would leave you

stranded like that

in the middle of a puddle?

I look into your eyes

and realize it’s me you’re staring at.

Do I know you?

You lift your hand,

as if a ghost, not quite there,

and wave.

‘Hello’ the wind whispers in my ear,

and the rain plants a kiss on my lips.

‘Hello’.