VALTER HUGO MÃE

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Cinquenta anos

Ouço as conversas nas esplanadas e fico convencido de que ser jovem agora, no que ao uso do corpo diz respeito, é uma glória infinita.

𝖤𝗋𝖺 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝗉𝗈𝗋𝖼𝖺𝗋𝗂𝖺 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗋 𝗇𝗈𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗇𝗈𝗀𝗋𝖺́𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝗈 𝖲𝖺́ 𝖽𝖺 𝖡𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗂𝗋𝖺 𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖺𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗅𝗈 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋𝖺𝗏𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗅 𝖾 𝗈𝗌 𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗁𝗈𝗌 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝗉𝗈𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗆 𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗋𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗓𝖾𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗌. 𝖬𝖾𝗍𝗂𝖺𝗆 𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗈. 𝖠 𝗎́𝗇𝗂𝖼𝖺 𝗏𝖾𝗓 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗂, 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝖽𝗎𝗋𝖾𝗂 𝖺𝗅𝗂 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗎𝗇𝗌 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗎𝗍𝗈𝗌. 𝖢𝗂𝗌𝗆𝖾𝗂 𝖽𝖾 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗋 𝖾𝗆 𝖼𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗂𝗋𝖺 𝗇𝖾𝗇𝗁𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗆 𝗆𝗈𝗅𝗁𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝖺 𝖺 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖺𝗏𝖺 𝖽𝖾 𝗎𝗆 𝗅𝖺𝖽𝗈 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗈 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗋𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗈 𝗇𝖺 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝖼̧𝖺 𝖺 𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖺𝗌. 𝖳𝗎𝖽𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝗂𝗍𝗈 𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗈 𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗌 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗆𝖾𝗅𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖺 𝗅𝗎𝗓 𝖾𝗑𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗋 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖾 𝖺 𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗆.

𝖳𝖾𝗇𝗁𝗈 𝖺 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖺̃𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗈 𝖯𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗌 𝗎𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝖺𝖽𝖾̂𝗇𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝖼𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎. 𝖭𝖺̃𝗈 𝗏𝖾𝗃𝗈 𝗉𝗎𝗍𝖺𝗌 𝖾𝗆 𝗅𝖺𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝖾𝗇𝗁𝗎𝗆. 𝖤𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗏𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗂𝖽𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖼𝖺𝖼̧𝗈̃𝖾𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖺𝗆 𝖺 𝗏𝗂𝖽𝖺 𝖺𝗈𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈𝗌. 𝖯𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝖺 𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾, 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝖺̃𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗂𝖿𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗃𝗈. 𝖭𝖺̃𝗈 𝖾́ 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖺́𝗋𝗂𝖺 𝖺 𝖼𝗋𝗂𝖺𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈 𝖽𝗈 𝗎𝗇𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺𝗅𝖾𝗅𝗈 𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗍𝗂𝖽𝗈𝗌. 𝖠 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖺̃𝗈 𝖾́ 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝗋𝖾.

𝖮𝗎𝖼̧𝗈 𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝖺𝗌 𝖾𝗌𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗏𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗂𝖽𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗋 𝗃𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗆 𝖺𝗀𝗈𝗋𝖺, 𝗇𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖺𝗈 𝗎𝗌𝗈 𝖽𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗉𝗈 𝖽𝗂𝗓 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗂𝗍𝗈, 𝖾́ 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝗀𝗅𝗈́𝗋𝗂𝖺 𝗂𝗇𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗍𝖺. 𝖢𝗅𝖺𝗋𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺̃𝗈 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖼̧𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝗈𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗃𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂́𝗅𝗂𝖺𝗌. 𝖭𝖺̃𝗈 𝖺𝖽𝗆𝗂𝗋𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗌 𝗏𝗂𝗋𝖾𝗆 𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝖺𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖺𝗌 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗈𝖺𝗅𝗁𝖺𝖽𝖺. 𝖢𝗎𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗆 𝗈𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗈𝗌. 𝖠𝗌𝗌𝗎𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗆. 𝖠 𝖺𝗅𝖾𝗀𝗋𝗂𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗈𝗋𝖺̂𝗇𝖾𝖺 𝖾́ 𝖾𝗆 𝗃𝖾𝗂𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗂𝖻𝗋𝗂, 𝖺𝗈𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗃𝗂𝗇𝗁𝗈𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗂𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝗅𝖺 𝗆𝗎𝗅𝗍𝗂𝖽𝖺̃𝗈. 𝖮 𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗋, 𝖺𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅, 𝖾́ 𝖼𝖺𝖽𝖺 𝗏𝖾𝗓 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗂𝗀𝖺̂𝗆𝗂𝖼𝗈, 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗋𝖾𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝖺 𝖺𝗆𝗉𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗎𝖽𝖾 𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗁𝗂𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗃𝖾𝗂𝖼̧𝗈̃𝖾𝗌. 𝖠 𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖾́ 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗈 𝗅𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗈́𝗋𝗂𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝖿𝗂𝗌𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖿𝗎𝗀𝖺𝗓 𝖾 𝖾𝗑𝖺𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖺𝖽𝖺 𝗇𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖻𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝖺̀𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾̂𝗇𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗌.

𝖮𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗆, 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗂 𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺 𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖾 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗈𝖻𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗎𝖽𝗈 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗑𝗈. 𝖩𝗎𝗅𝗀𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗈 𝖦𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗇𝗈 𝖽𝖾𝗏𝗂𝖺 𝗍𝖾𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗋 𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗆 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗀𝖺 𝖺 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺 𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗋 𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗋 𝖺𝖼𝖾𝗋𝖼𝖺 𝖽𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗈𝗌 𝖼𝗂𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝖺𝖻𝖾𝗆 𝖺𝖼𝖾𝗋𝖼𝖺 𝖽𝖺 𝗌𝗈𝖻𝗋𝖾𝗏𝗂𝗏𝖾̂𝗇𝖼𝗂𝖺 𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗋 𝖽𝖾 𝖺𝗀𝗈𝗋𝖺. 𝖯𝗈𝗋𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖾𝗎 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝗈 𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗈. 𝖳𝗎𝖽𝗈 𝗆𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾 𝖽𝖾 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗋𝗈 𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝗈 𝗆𝖾𝗎, 𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗍𝗎𝖽𝗈 𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖺 𝖺 𝖾𝗇𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗁𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗋. 𝖠𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗉𝗈 𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖺 𝗌𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗁𝖺 𝖽𝖾𝖻𝖺𝗂𝗑𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗇𝗂𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝖽𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗌, 𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗉𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗂𝗈𝗌𝗈, 𝖺 𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗇𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗂𝖺 𝖾 𝗈𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗆 𝗈𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗀𝖺𝗋-𝗆𝖾 𝖺̀ 𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗁𝗂𝖼𝖾, 𝖺̀ 𝖼𝗈𝗂𝗌𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝖽𝗎𝖼𝖺 𝖽𝖾 𝗇𝗎𝗇𝖼𝖺 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗈𝗌 𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗁𝖺́, 𝖺𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖼𝖾, 𝗏𝗂𝗋𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗓𝖺 𝖾 𝖺 𝗃𝗎𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗎𝖽𝖾 𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗋𝖺. 𝖤𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗆 𝗌𝖺𝖻𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗅𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾, 𝖺𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅, 𝖺 𝗃𝗎𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗎𝖽𝖾 𝖾́ 𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝖺𝗓.

𝖵𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗅𝗆𝗈𝖼̧𝖺𝗋 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝖿𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗁𝖺 𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗂𝗑𝖺𝗋-𝗆𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗂𝗀𝖺̂𝗆𝗂𝖼𝗈 𝖺𝗈 𝗌𝗈𝗅 𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖺 𝖻𝗈𝗆 𝖽𝗈 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗈𝗇𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾𝖼̧𝖺. 𝖤𝗇𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗈, 𝗅𝖾𝗂𝗈 𝖺 𝖻𝗂𝗈𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖿𝗂𝖺 𝖽𝖾 𝖣𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝗈𝗌 𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗀𝗈𝗌 𝗃𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗆 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗁𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽𝗂𝖼̧𝗈̃𝖾𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗓𝖾𝗋. 𝖠 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗁𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝖺 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺́ 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗈𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗌, 𝗇𝖾𝗆 𝖼𝗈𝗓𝗂𝗇𝗁𝖺 𝗍𝖾𝗆. 𝖢𝖺𝗅𝗁𝖺 𝖻𝖾𝗆. 𝖬𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖺𝖼̧𝗈 𝗌𝗈𝖻𝗋𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝖽𝖺𝗇𝖼̧𝖺𝗋 𝖺𝗈 𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖺𝗅𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗋𝗂𝖺𝖽𝗈 𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝖾𝗇𝗀𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗌. 𝖳𝗈𝖽𝖺 𝖺 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝗆𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝗓 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝖾𝗌𝗊𝗎𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗋 𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗆𝗂𝖺. 𝖠 𝗉𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗆𝗂𝖺 𝗏𝖺𝗂 𝖺𝗀𝗈𝗋𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗈 𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝖻𝖾𝖼̧𝖺𝗌. 𝖭𝖺̃𝗈 𝖾𝗌𝗊𝗎𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗂, 𝗆𝖺𝗌 𝖾́ 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗃𝖺́ 𝗆𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗍𝖺 𝖽𝖾𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗋 𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗉𝗈 𝖺𝗈 𝖬𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗈. 𝖨𝗋 𝖻𝗎𝗌𝖼𝖺́-𝗅𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖾, 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗆 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗆𝖺 𝗈 𝖼𝖺̃𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗋𝖾𝗎 𝖺 𝗍𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗂𝗋𝖺 𝖺𝗍𝗋𝖺́𝗌 𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖺𝗂𝗌. 𝖰𝗎𝖾 𝖺 𝗏𝗂𝖽𝖺 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝗉𝗈𝖽𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝖺 𝖺𝖽𝗂𝖺𝖽𝖺. 𝖤 𝖺𝗆𝖺𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗂 𝗌𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗋𝖾 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝖺 𝖺𝗅𝖾𝗀𝗋𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗅𝖺 𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖺 𝖽𝗈 𝖺𝖻𝗂𝗌𝗆𝗈. 𝖨𝗆𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖺 𝗌𝗈𝖻𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗎𝖽𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗁𝖺𝗆 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝖺 𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗆𝖺 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖺̃𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗋𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗅𝗁𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝖻𝗋𝗈 𝖽𝖾𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺 𝖺𝗅𝖾𝗀𝗋𝗂𝖺 𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗓𝖺.

* Escritor

IN "NOTÍCIAS MAGAZINE" - 27/09/21  

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