Portugal 2008
Esta imagem para mim representa parte de um caminho. Podemos continuar, também podemos voltar atrás, podemos ainda parar e quem sabe semi-cerrar os olhos e perscrutar o horizonte em busca de alguma resposta, uma pista sobre o que estará lá mais à frente. Se o fizermos pagamos com tempo. Uma viagem.
Esta imagem fez-me também lembrar de uma música que gosto bastante, e que já não ouço há algum tempo. Mas lembro-me da letra, e do videoclip, das mensagens e imagens sobre (e de) pessoas desaparecidas. Muitas crianças... Demasiadas viagens com bilhete só de ida.
"Runaway Train" - Soul Asylum - 1993
"Call you up in the middle of the night. Like a firefly without a light. You were there like a blowtorch burning. I was a key that could use a little turning. So tired that I couldnt even sleep. So many secrets I couldnt keep. I promised myself I wouldnt weep. One more promise I couldnt keep. It seems no one can help me now, Im in too deep; theres no way out. This time I have really led myself astray. Runaway train, never going back. Wrong way on a one-way track. Seems like I should be getting somewhere. Somehow Im neither here nor there. Can you help me remember how to smile? Make it somehow all seem worthwhile. How on earth did I get so jaded? Lifes mystery seems so faded. I can go where no one else can go. I know what no one else knows. Here I am just a-drownin in the rain. With a ticket for a runaway train. And everything seems cut and dried, Day and night, earth and sky, Somehow I just dont believe it. Runaway train, never going back. Wrong way on a one-way track. Seems like I should be getting somewhere. Somehow Im neither here nor there. Bought a ticket for a runaway train. Like a madman laughing at the rain. A little out of touch, a little insane. Its just easier than dealing with the pain. Runaway train, never going back. Wrong way on a one-way track. Seems like I should be getting somewhere. Somehow Im neither here nor there. Runaway train, never coming back. Runaway train, tearing up the track. Runaway train, burning in my veins. I run away but it always seems the same."
Comentários
Cradled through England between flooded fields
rocking, rocking the rails, my head-phones on,
the black box of my Walkman on the table.
Hot tea trembles in its plastic cup.
I'm thinking of you waking in our bed
thinking of me on the train. Too soon to phone.
The radio speaks in the suburbs, in commuter towns,
in cars unloading children at school gates,
is silenced in dark parkways down the line
before locks click and footprints track the frost
and trains slide out of stations in the dawn
dreaming their way towards the blazing bone-ship.
The vodaphone you are calling
may have been switched off.
Please call later. And calling later,
calling later their phones ring in the rubble
and in the rubble of suburban kitchens
the wolves howl into silent telephones.
I phone. No answer. Where are you now?
The train moves homeward through the morning
Tonight I'll be home safe, but talk to me, please.
Pick up the phone. Today I'm tolerant
of mobiles. Let them say it. I'll say it too.
Darling, I'm on the train.
by Gillian Clarke
PS: aconselho a leitura das notas sobre este poema.