She asked if I would like her to sing something. I replied no, I would like her to say something. I thought she would say she had nothing to say, it would have been like her, and so was agreeably surprised when she said she had a room, most agreeably surprised, though I suspected as much. Who has not a room? Ah I hear the clamour. I have two rooms, she said. Just how many rooms do you have? I said. She said she had two rooms and a kitchen. The premises were expanding steadily, given time she would remember a bathroom. Is it two rooms I heard you say? I said. Yes, she said. Adjacent? I said. At last conversation worthy of the name. Separated by the kitchen, she said. I asked her why she had not told me before. I must have been beside myself, at this period. I did not feel easy when I was with her, but at least free to think of something else than her, of the old trusty things, and so little by little, as down steps towards a deep, of nothing. And I knew that away from her I would forfeit this freedom.
Samuel Beckett, (1970). First love. In: First love and other novellas, 78. London: Penguin Modern Classics, 2000
“O Wlademir morreu esta tarde” foi o que o amigo Thadeu me disse há horas atrás. Wlademir Dias-Pino (Rio de Janeiro, 1927), um dos poetas e artistas visuais brasileiros mais interessantes do século XX e o fundador do Poema/processo, morreu esta tarde. A par de outras ideias, como a indigenista Universidade da Selva, Dias-Pino deixa por acabar a mais ambiciosa, a da Enciclopédia Visual, uma obra-arquivo composta por mais de 100 mil imagens.
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