_-_Wheat_Field_with_Crows_(1890).jpg)
A month ago
I went
to the wooden walking paths
on the riverbank of the Paiva river.
Eight kilometers of walk,
under scorching sun.
*
A week ago
That wooden walking path
was burnt down
by the climate crisis.
*
The flyers said they had a plan of extension for the path.
Fossil capital had other plans for it.
The iconic "schist village" Piódão
was under the siege
of the flames.
I thought to myself:
Should I finish the chestnut liqueur
we bought in Piódão a couple of years ago
before Piódão finishes,
or should I keep it?
If I keep it
and if Piódão is burnt down,
will I have the courage to drink it later?
If I keep it,
will I be investing hope on Piódão
for no rational reason?
That was my first thought when I saw the news.
Climate, Galp, Navigator
came later
- a few minutes later.
Solidarity, what to do, now and here
came later
- a few minutes later.
The first thought was
the Piódão that is inside my house.
I felt a bit guilty about this.
Then it passed.
The fire didn't.
My eyes
are tired
of paying attention
I close my eyes
The images remain
in front me.
My eyes might be resting
yet my mind isn't.
My humanity aches.
Yaşamalı
her Salı sabahını
sanki başka Salı
ve başka sabah
yokmuş,
hiç olmamış
ve hiç olmayacakmış gibi.
Sevmeli
her canlıyı
ve her nesneyi
her Salı sabahı
sanki sevmek için
başka Salı
ve başka sabah
hiç olmamış
ve hiç olmayacakmış gibi.
Sevmeli
her Salı sabahını,
yaşam mucizesini
her Salı sabahında.
It
is
not
that,
as would be expected,
we
are
aware
of our condition
which,
as would be expected,
is as good
as it is bad,
which,
as would be expected,
makes
it
impossible
to improve
our condition.
As would be expected,
we
do
not
admit
our
solitude
when together.
And,
we
do
not
notice
our
unity
when split,
as would be expected.
