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C'est la vie
C'est la vie
Janela embaçada
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Embaçada window
Automatically translated into English thanks to WorldLingo
or “the love finishes”


A embaçada window.
The purest and fine signal of the sacanagem.
Of of it are there, all could swear to be about a loving duel of the most perverted. The windows, without if giving account, also were humidified and arfantes. The racket, that came from there of inside, was nauseante.

The windows, poor persons windows! , they were the signal most unequivocal - even so more the trifler - of that in that place an unusual case was given.

(They left clearly that something, there inside, was not transferred well - or passed well excessively to the small vanities of that they had not been invited for the benefit of the party.)

the windows, sweated and wet, they persuaded, even so lay.
The neighbors, in its anxieties of rest (nor always deserved), complained. The presumption to trepidar of a bed was to be called sufficient it caretaker.

The windows, the racket, I smell it. Everything indicated the presence of the devil of the sacanagem, of the angel of the love - or putas and putos that trepam night adentro without if mattering with whatsoever.

The caretaker, already awaken, was the messenger of the bad notice. But the exterior things costumam to be deceptive.

All had been able to think that two loving finished of if finding, and if they interlaced ardilosamente. But everything what it had there inside was old and a its heater. An old punheteiro and a barulhento heater.

Prostrado for on the bed, the heater trepidava to the gallops. It fulled the place of a hot and soft mist. The windows, without more what to make, if they embaçavam. The poor person and old punheteiro, liabilities, liked that situation. Silence would leave it nervous. E the heat made it to remember the hot hole of the zone.

The old one thought about a good time, when putas paraded in way to other old punheiteiros. They were putas fat and ancudas. However, for each one of those old punheiteiros, them them they seemed blond and fine angels. Its madeixas long and esvoaçantes contrasted with the blistered and dirty environment. They passed of one I sing to another one as fallen angels, between the sky and the hell.

The old punheteiros thought about a time, when these same putas them acariciavam the face in sight of more singelo smile. Putas had in mind that them value very more mísero changed.
They, of no form, paraded. If they dragged. If they enfadavam. They, of all the forms, if amused with its proper anecdotes and fancies. Putas and old seemed to coexist well, even so was, in fact, in separate worlds.

Also separate, for the humid windows, they were all distrustful of that condominium and poor person and old punheteiro.

They were not, there inside, two loving insandecidos and undressed. They were not acariciavam, nor if they loved. It was only old and a its heater. An old punheiteiro and a barulhento heater.

The old punheteiro was not hurried in taking care of the caretaker. Also it did not give heard to you complain them of the neighbors. In its calm calm and its bold slowness, the old punheteiro waited the future. Before all, and more than nobody, the old wise person who the love finishes. Exactly between two loving that the windows embaçam.

When one of the two, hit for the deep joy, leaves to escape itself of what more than it is made use to give, the other is fulled. (The other is smeared.) Not only for the sweat or the blood. The other is fulled of the love. E is there that the love finishes.

By MBF - 08/08/08
a devaneio insane person, who took me by surprise, in the way of the fatídica night of 8-8-8, when the vestibule it Arcanjo Miguel if opened ahead of us… Vc it saw!

Credit of the Photo: Orlando Pedroso

August 12, 2008 | 12:13 PM Comments  0 comments

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