JÚLIO MACHADO VAZ

 .

Perguntem à Alice 

A Santa Casa da Misericórdia de Pinhel partilhou o vídeo do reencontro de um casal que um internamento hospitalar separara durante um mês. Uma imagem vale mais do que mil palavras, quem se atreveria a contrariar Confúcio? Os beijos, afagos e sorrisos não mentem - presenciamos um momento de absoluta felicidade. 

𝓞 𝓬𝓪𝓼𝓪𝓵 𝓮́ 𝓭𝓮𝓼𝓬𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓸 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓸 "𝓮𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓪𝓭𝓸". 𝓑𝓮𝓵𝓪 𝓹𝓪𝓵𝓪𝓿𝓻𝓪, 𝓶𝓪𝓼, 𝓼𝓮𝓳𝓪𝓶𝓸𝓼 𝓱𝓸𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓼, 𝓹𝓸𝓾𝓬𝓸 𝓱𝓪𝓫𝓲𝓽𝓾𝓪𝓵 𝓺𝓾𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓸 𝓼𝓮 𝓯𝓪𝓵𝓪 𝓭𝓮 𝓲𝓭𝓸𝓼𝓸𝓼. 𝓟𝓸𝓻𝓺𝓾𝓮 𝓸 𝓮𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓸, 𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓪 𝓼𝓸𝓬𝓲𝓮𝓭𝓪𝓭𝓮 𝓮𝓶 𝓫𝓾𝓼𝓬𝓪 𝓭𝓸 𝓮𝓵𝓲𝔁𝓲𝓻 𝓭𝓪 𝓮𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓷𝓪 𝓳𝓾𝓿𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓾𝓭𝓮, 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓮 𝓶𝓸𝓷𝓸𝓹𝓸́𝓵𝓲𝓸 𝓭𝓸𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓲𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓿𝓸𝓼. 𝓓𝓮 𝓶𝓪̃𝓸𝓼 𝓭𝓪𝓭𝓪𝓼 𝓬𝓸𝓶 𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓼 𝓹𝓪𝓵𝓪𝓿𝓻𝓪𝓼 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓸 𝓹𝓪𝓲𝔁𝓪̃𝓸, 𝓭𝓮𝓼𝓮𝓳𝓸 𝓮 𝓼𝓮𝔁𝓸, 𝓭𝓲𝓻-𝓼𝓮-𝓲𝓪 𝓺𝓾𝓮 𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓪̃𝓸 𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓲𝓫𝓲𝓭𝓪𝓼 𝓪𝓸𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓲𝓼 𝓿𝓮𝓵𝓱𝓸𝓼. 

𝓡𝓮𝓬𝓾𝓸 𝓸𝓷𝔃𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓼 𝓮 𝓵𝓮𝓶𝓫𝓻𝓸 𝓾𝓶 𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓲𝓰𝓸 𝓭𝓮 𝓝𝓪𝓽𝓪́𝓵𝓲𝓪 𝓕𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓪 𝓷𝓸 "𝓟𝓾́𝓫𝓵𝓲𝓬𝓸", 𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓸 𝓸 𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓾𝓭𝓸 𝓭𝓮 𝓐𝓻𝓸𝓷, 𝓺𝓾𝓮 𝓪𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓿𝓮́𝓼 𝓭𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓸𝓷𝓪̂𝓷𝓬𝓲𝓪 𝓶𝓪𝓰𝓷𝓮́𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓪 𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓾𝓭𝓪𝓻𝓪 𝓪𝓼 𝓸𝓷𝓭𝓪𝓼 𝓬𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓫𝓻𝓪𝓲𝓼 𝓭𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓼𝓪𝓲𝓼 𝓺𝓾𝓮 𝓼𝓮 𝓭𝓲𝔃𝓲𝓪𝓶 𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓪 𝓪𝓹𝓪𝓲𝔁𝓸𝓷𝓪𝓭𝓸𝓼. 𝓓𝓸𝓾-𝓵𝓱𝓮 𝓪 𝓹𝓪𝓵𝓪𝓿𝓻𝓪: "𝓘𝓷𝓲𝓬𝓲𝓪𝓵𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓮, 𝓺𝓾𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓸 𝓪𝓼 𝓹𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓸𝓪𝓼 𝓶𝓮 𝓭𝓲𝔃𝓲𝓪𝓶 𝓺𝓾𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓾𝓪𝓿𝓪𝓶 𝓪𝓹𝓪𝓲𝔁𝓸𝓷𝓪𝓭𝓪𝓼 𝓪𝓸 𝓯𝓲𝓶 𝓭𝓮 𝟐𝟎 𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓼, 𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓼𝓮𝓲 𝓺𝓾𝓮 𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓿𝓪𝓶 𝓪 𝓮𝓷𝓰𝓪𝓷𝓪𝓻-𝓼𝓮 𝓪 𝓼𝓲 𝓹𝓻𝓸́𝓹𝓻𝓲𝓪𝓼. 𝓜𝓪𝓼 𝓸𝓼 𝓮𝔁𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓼 𝓭𝓪𝓼 𝓸𝓷𝓭𝓪𝓼 𝓬𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓫𝓻𝓪𝓲𝓼 𝓭𝓮𝓶𝓸𝓷𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓶 𝓺𝓾𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓪 𝓶𝓮𝓼𝓶𝓸 𝓾𝓶 𝓹𝓲𝓬𝓸 𝓭𝓮 𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓭𝓾𝓬̧𝓪̃𝓸 𝓭𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝓹𝓪𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓪 𝓺𝓾𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓸 𝓿𝓲𝓪𝓶 𝓪 𝓯𝓸𝓽𝓸𝓰𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓲𝓪 𝓭𝓸 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓮𝓲𝓻𝓸". 

𝓡𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓸𝓷𝓪̂𝓷𝓬𝓲𝓪 𝓶𝓪𝓰𝓷𝓮́𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓪, 𝓸𝓷𝓭𝓪𝓼 𝓬𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓫𝓻𝓪𝓲𝓼, 𝓭𝓸𝓹𝓪𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓪, 𝓮𝓲𝓼 𝓪 𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓹𝓮𝓲𝓽𝓪𝓫𝓲𝓵𝓲𝓭𝓪𝓭𝓮 𝓬𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲́𝓯𝓲𝓬𝓪 𝓽𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓼 𝓿𝓮𝔃𝓮𝓼 𝓷𝓮𝓰𝓪𝓭𝓪 𝓪𝓸𝓼 𝓹𝓼𝓲𝓬𝓸́𝓵𝓸𝓰𝓸𝓼 𝓮 𝓹𝓼𝓲𝓺𝓾𝓲𝓪𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓼! 𝓠𝓾𝓮 𝓪𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓪𝓼 (?) 𝓮𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓽𝓪𝓶. 𝓟𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓸𝓪𝓼 𝓺𝓾𝓮 𝓼𝓮 𝓼𝓮𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓶, 𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓪𝓼𝓪𝓶, 𝓪𝓶𝓪𝓶, 𝓼𝓸𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓶, 𝓪𝓬𝓾𝓼𝓪𝓶 𝓸𝓾 𝓹𝓮𝓭𝓮𝓶 𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓻𝓪 𝓸𝓹𝓸𝓻𝓽𝓾𝓷𝓲𝓭𝓪𝓭𝓮, 𝓪𝓵𝓱𝓮𝓲𝓪𝓼 𝓪̀ 𝓭𝓲𝓽𝓪𝓭𝓾𝓻𝓪 𝓫𝓾𝓻𝓸𝓬𝓻𝓪́𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓪 𝓭𝓸𝓼 𝓬𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓸̃𝓮𝓼 𝓭𝓮 𝓬𝓲𝓭𝓪𝓭𝓪̃𝓸; 𝓮𝓼𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓸𝓻𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓮 𝓿𝓲𝓿𝓪𝓼. 

𝓑𝓻𝓮𝓵 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓹𝓸̂𝓼 𝓮 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓸𝓾 "𝓛𝓮𝓼 𝓿𝓲𝓮𝓾𝔁", 𝓾𝓶𝓪 𝓸𝓫𝓻𝓪-𝓹𝓻𝓲𝓶𝓪 𝓺𝓾𝓮 𝓷𝓪𝓻𝓻𝓪 𝓸 𝓷𝓸𝓼𝓼𝓸 𝓬𝓪𝓶𝓫𝓪𝓵𝓮𝓲𝓸, 𝓪𝓸 𝓼𝓸𝓶 𝓭𝓮 𝓾𝓶 𝓻𝓮𝓵𝓸́𝓰𝓲𝓸 𝓭𝓮 𝓼𝓪𝓵𝓪̃𝓸 𝓺𝓾𝓮 𝓻𝓸𝓷𝓻𝓸𝓷𝓪 𝓮 𝓷𝓸𝓼 𝓮𝓶𝓹𝓾𝓻𝓻𝓪, 𝓬𝓸𝓶 𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓲𝓮𝓭𝓸𝓼𝓪 𝓭𝓸𝓬̧𝓾𝓻𝓪, 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓪 𝓪 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓽𝓮. 𝓐 𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓬̧𝓪̃𝓸 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓬̧𝓪 𝓪𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓶: "...𝓸𝓼 𝓿𝓮𝓵𝓱𝓸𝓼 𝓳𝓪́ 𝓷𝓪̃𝓸 𝓯𝓪𝓵𝓪𝓶 𝓸𝓾 𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓪̃𝓸 𝓪𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓪𝓼 𝓪̀𝓼 𝓿𝓮𝔃𝓮𝓼 𝓬𝓸𝓶 𝓪 𝓹𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓪 𝓭𝓸𝓼 𝓸𝓵𝓱𝓸𝓼/𝓶𝓮𝓼𝓶𝓸 𝓻𝓲𝓬𝓸𝓼 𝓼𝓪̃𝓸 𝓹𝓸𝓫𝓻𝓮𝓼, 𝓳𝓪́ 𝓷𝓪̃𝓸 𝓪𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓶 𝓲𝓵𝓾𝓼𝓸̃𝓮𝓼 𝓮 𝓽𝓮̂𝓶 𝓪𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓪𝓼 𝓾𝓶 𝓬𝓸𝓻𝓪𝓬̧𝓪̃𝓸 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓪 𝓸𝓼 𝓭𝓸𝓲𝓼...". 

𝓢𝓮𝓶𝓹𝓻𝓮 𝓺𝓾𝓮 𝓪 𝓮𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓽𝓸, 𝓮𝓷𝓻𝓸𝓼𝓬𝓪𝓭𝓸 𝓷𝓾𝓶 𝓮𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓺𝓾𝓮 𝓷𝓾𝓷𝓬𝓪 𝓮𝓼𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓮𝓾, 𝓶𝓾𝓻𝓶𝓾𝓻𝓸 𝓪 𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓲𝓪 - "𝓖𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓙𝓪𝓬𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓼, 𝓷𝓪̃𝓸 𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓱𝓪𝓼 𝓻𝓪𝔃𝓪̃𝓸. 𝓔𝓻𝓪 𝓸 𝓹𝓪̂𝓷𝓲𝓬𝓸 𝓭𝓪 𝓿𝓮𝓵𝓱𝓲𝓬𝓮 𝓪 𝓯𝓪𝓵𝓪𝓻, 𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓯𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓪𝓼-𝓵𝓱𝓮 𝓪 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓽𝓮, 𝓹𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓮 𝓪𝓯𝓲𝓪𝓷𝓬̧𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓼 𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓾𝓹𝓸𝓻𝓽𝓪́𝓿𝓮𝓵 𝓮 𝓬𝓮𝓻𝓽𝓸 𝓭𝓮 𝓺𝓾𝓮 𝓪𝓼 𝓽𝓾𝓪𝓼 𝓶𝓾𝓵𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓼 𝓽𝓮 𝓭𝓮𝓲𝔁𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓪𝓶. 𝓐𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓱𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓮 𝓸 𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓻𝓸 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓸 𝓾𝓶 𝓶𝓪𝓵 𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓸𝓻? 𝓕𝓲𝔃𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓵, 𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓭𝓸, 𝓸𝓼 𝓪𝓯𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓸𝓼 𝓹𝓸𝓭𝓮𝓶 𝓿𝓲𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓮𝓶 𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓲𝓽𝓾𝓭𝓮 𝓪𝓽𝓮́ 𝓪̀ 𝓾́𝓵𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓪 𝓫𝓪𝓭𝓪𝓵𝓪𝓭𝓪 𝓭𝓸 𝓻𝓮𝓵𝓸́𝓰𝓲𝓸". 

𝓢𝓮 𝓮𝓼𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓱𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓮 𝓿𝓸𝔃 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓪 𝓶𝓮 𝓪𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓹𝓪𝓷𝓱𝓪𝓻 𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓪 𝓭𝓲𝓼𝓬𝓸𝓻𝓭𝓪̂𝓷𝓬𝓲𝓪 𝓮𝓶𝓸𝓵𝓭𝓾𝓻𝓪𝓭𝓪 𝓹𝓮𝓵𝓪 𝓪𝓭𝓶𝓲𝓻𝓪𝓬̧𝓪̃𝓸 𝓫𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓪 𝓪̀ 𝓹𝓸𝓻𝓽𝓪 𝓭𝓪 𝓐𝓵𝓲𝓬𝓮 𝓥𝓲𝓮𝓲𝓻𝓪, 𝓼𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓲𝓪 𝓪 𝓿𝓲𝓭𝓪 𝓬𝓸𝓶 𝓽𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓪 𝓹𝓪𝓲𝔁𝓪̃𝓸 𝓺𝓾𝓮 𝓷𝓮𝓶 𝓪 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓽𝓮 𝓵𝓱𝓮 𝓪𝓹𝓪𝓰𝓪𝓻𝓪́ 𝓸 𝓼𝓸𝓻𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓸, 𝓼𝓮 𝓮𝔁𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓻 𝓾𝓶 "𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓪 𝓪𝓵𝓮́𝓶" 𝓼𝓮𝓻𝓪́ 𝓿𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓭𝓸 𝓬𝓸𝓶 𝓸 𝓶𝓮𝓼𝓶𝓸 𝓰𝓸𝔃𝓸. 𝓓𝓲𝓼𝓼𝓮 𝓮𝓵𝓪 𝓺𝓾𝓮 "𝓱𝓪́ 𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓲𝓻𝓸𝓼 𝓭𝓮 𝓲𝓷𝓯𝓪̂𝓷𝓬𝓲𝓪 𝓺𝓾𝓮 𝓷𝓪̃𝓸 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓻𝓮𝓶 𝓷𝓾𝓷𝓬𝓪, 𝓷𝓮𝓶 𝓼𝓮𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓻 𝓮𝓷𝓿𝓮𝓵𝓱𝓮𝓬𝓮𝓶 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓸 𝓪 𝓷𝓸𝓼𝓼𝓪 𝓹𝓮𝓵𝓮". 𝓒𝓸𝓶 𝓶𝓾𝓲𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓫𝓪𝓵𝓱𝓸 𝓮 𝓾𝓶𝓪 𝓹𝓲𝓽𝓪𝓭𝓪 𝓭𝓮 𝓼𝓸𝓻𝓽𝓮, 𝓸 𝓶𝓮𝓼𝓶𝓸 𝓪𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓬𝓮 𝓪 𝓪𝓵𝓰𝓾𝓷𝓼 𝓪𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓼. 

𝓔 𝓷𝓪̃𝓸 𝓼𝓸́ 𝓮𝓶 𝓟𝓲𝓷𝓱𝓮𝓵.....

*Psiquiatra 

 IN "JORNAL DE NOTÍCIAS" 

15/11/20

 .