.
Foi o apagão, mas
podia ser mais
tempo para viver
Mais do que a ausência de ecrãs, o apagão de 28 de abril revelou o que
acontece quando, por um instante, se suspende o domínio do trabalho
sobre o tempo e a cidade volta a pertencer a quem a habita.
𝖠̀𝗌 𝟣𝟣𝗁𝟥𝟥 𝖽𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖺 𝟤𝟪 𝖽𝖾 𝖺𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗅, 𝖯𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗎𝗀𝖺𝗅 𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝖿𝖿𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝖾 𝖺̀𝗌 𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗌. 𝖴𝗆 𝗉𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗈 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝖺 𝖺 𝖾𝗌𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖺 𝖽𝗂𝗀𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗅, 𝗆𝗎𝗅𝗍𝗂𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖺𝗆-𝗌𝖾 𝗇𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝗀𝗎𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝗀𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈 𝖺̀ 𝗇𝗈𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝖻𝗅𝗂𝖼𝖺𝖼̧𝗈̃𝖾𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖺𝗏𝖺𝗆 𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗅𝖾𝗑𝗈̃𝖾𝗌, 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗈̃𝖾𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗈́𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗌, 𝖺𝖼𝖾𝗋𝖼𝖺 𝖽𝗈 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗈 𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗀𝖺̃𝗈. 𝖭𝖺̃𝗈 𝖾𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖺𝗆 𝖺𝖽𝗃𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗏𝗈𝗌 𝗅𝖺𝗎𝖽𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝗈𝗌 𝖺𝗈 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗈. 𝖧𝗈𝗎𝗏𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗆 𝗈 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗈 “𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝖻𝖾̂𝗇𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈” 𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗏𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝖾𝗂𝗈 𝖽𝗂𝖺 𝖽𝖾 𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗀𝖺̃𝗈 𝖿𝗈𝗂 “𝗎𝗆 𝗌𝗈𝗇𝗁𝗈”, 𝗎𝗆 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗎́𝖽𝗂𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗆𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗎 𝗋𝖾𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗈𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗋 𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖾́ 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾. 𝖳𝗈𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝗅𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝖾𝗌𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗂𝖺𝗌, 𝖾𝗆 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺𝖻𝖾𝗅𝖾𝖼𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗈𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖼𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗏𝖺𝗆 𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗈𝖺𝗋 𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝖼𝗄 𝖽𝖾 𝗀𝖾𝗅𝖺𝖽𝗈 𝖾 𝖼𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝗃𝖺 𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝖺𝗉𝗌𝗈 𝖽𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗋𝗂𝗀𝖾𝗋𝖺𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈 𝗈𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗇𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖾 𝗂𝗋𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗎𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖺́𝗏𝖾𝗂𝗌; 𝖽𝖾 𝖼𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗇𝖼̧𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗈𝖼𝗎𝗉𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌, 𝗌𝗈𝖻 𝗈 𝗈𝗅𝗁𝖺𝗋 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗈 𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾, 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝗏𝖾𝗓, 𝗌𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝖻𝖾𝗋𝗍𝖺𝗋𝖺𝗆 𝖽𝖺 𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗂𝖺 𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖺𝖼̧𝗈̃𝖾𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝗇𝗈 𝗍𝖾𝗅𝖾𝗆𝗈́𝗏𝖾𝗅; 𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝗏𝗂𝗓𝗂𝗇𝗁𝗈𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗌𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗋𝖺𝗆 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝖿𝖺𝗓𝖾𝗋 𝗎𝗆 𝖼𝗁𝗎𝗋𝗋𝖺𝗌𝖼𝗈 𝗇𝖺 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗋𝖺 𝖽𝗈 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗂𝗈, 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗈 𝗌𝗈́ 𝗏𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗌 𝖲𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗈𝗌 𝖯𝗈𝗉𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗌.
𝖭𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗈, 𝖿𝖺𝗓𝖾𝗆-𝗌𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗎𝗌𝗈̃𝖾𝗌 𝖺 𝗎𝗆 “𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗀𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾” 𝗇𝖾𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗈, 𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗈 𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗂𝖽𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖺𝖻𝖺𝗋𝖼𝖺 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗓𝖺𝖼̧𝗈̃𝖾𝗌. 𝖤𝗇𝗍𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝖺𝗆𝖻𝖾́𝗆 𝗆𝗎𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗌, 𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖺𝗌, 𝗈𝖽𝖾𝗌 𝖺̀ 𝗋𝖺́𝖽𝗂𝗈, 𝗎𝗆 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖺𝖽𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗅𝖾𝖺́𝗏𝖾𝗅 𝖾́ 𝗂𝗇𝗏𝗈𝖼𝖺𝖽𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝗇𝗈𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗀𝗂𝖺, 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗈-𝗇𝗈𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗎́𝗀𝗂𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝗎𝗆 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝗋𝗎ı́𝖽𝗈, 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖺 𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗂𝗉𝖺𝗅𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾, 𝖽𝖾 𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖺̃𝗌. 𝖠𝗋𝗀𝗎𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺-𝗌𝖾, 𝖾𝗆 𝗆𝗎𝗂𝗍𝗈𝗌 𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗈𝗌, 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖺 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗑𝖺̃𝗈 𝖽𝗂𝗀𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗅 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖼̧𝖺𝖽𝖺 𝗍𝖾𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗏𝗈 𝗇𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗑𝖺̃𝗈 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝖺𝗌. 𝖭𝖺̃𝗈 𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗂 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗈𝗋𝖽𝖺𝗋. 𝖳𝖺𝗆𝖻𝖾́𝗆 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝖿𝗈𝖼𝖺𝗋-𝗆𝖾 𝗇𝗎𝗆 𝗅𝖺𝖽𝗈 𝗉𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗈 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗎𝗍𝗂𝖽𝗈, 𝗆𝖺𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗏𝖾́𝗆 𝗅𝖾𝗆𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗋: 𝗈 𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾, 𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖺, 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗆 𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗅ı́𝗏𝗂𝗈 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗓𝗂𝖽𝗈 𝗉𝖾𝗅𝗈 𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗀𝖺̃𝗈, 𝗆𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗂𝗆 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝖽𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖺́𝗏𝖾𝗂𝗌 𝗃𝗈𝗋𝗇𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗂𝖽𝖺̃𝗈, 𝖾 𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗆 𝗈 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗈́ 𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗑𝖾 𝖺𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗌𝗈𝗌, 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖼𝖺𝖼̧𝗈̃𝖾𝗌 𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗌. 𝖳𝖺𝗅𝗏𝖾𝗓 𝖽𝖾𝗏𝖾̂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗌, 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺̃𝗈, 𝗈𝗅𝗁𝖺𝗋 𝖽𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗂 𝖽𝖺𝖽𝗈 𝖺 𝗏𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖺 𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗀𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗈-𝗇𝗈𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝖻𝗋𝖾 𝖺 𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗀𝖾𝗆 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾 𝗌𝗎́𝖻𝗂𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗎𝗇𝗁𝖺̃𝗈 𝗌𝗈𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅, 𝖽𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗎. 𝖲𝖾𝗋𝖺́ 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗎 𝖺 𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾̂𝗇𝖼𝗂𝖺 𝖽𝖾 𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖺̃𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗅 𝖺𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾? 𝖮𝗎 𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖺́ 𝗌𝗂𝖽𝗈, 𝗌𝗈𝖻𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗎𝖽𝗈, 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝖻𝖾𝗋𝗍𝖺𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺̂𝗇𝖾𝖺 𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗈́𝗀𝗂𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗈, 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝗏𝗈𝗅𝗏𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗆 𝖺̀ 𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖾 𝗎𝗇𝗌 𝖺𝗈𝗌 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗌?
𝖯𝗈𝗋 𝗎𝗆 𝖺𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖺𝗋𝗈, 𝖺 𝗆𝖾𝗂𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝗎𝗆 𝖽𝗂𝖺 𝗎́𝗍𝗂𝗅, 𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝖼𝖺𝖻𝖺𝗋𝖺𝗆 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝖾𝖽𝗈 𝖽𝗈 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖻𝖺𝗅𝗁𝗈. 𝖤𝗋𝖺𝗆 𝖽𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗌 𝗈𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗉𝗈𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾𝖼̧𝖺𝗋𝖺𝗆 𝖺 𝗈𝖼𝗎𝗉𝖺𝗋 𝗈𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌, 𝖺𝗌 𝗏𝖺𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖺𝗌, 𝗈𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝖿𝖾́𝗌, 𝗇𝗎𝗆 𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾, 𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝗂𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾, 𝖽𝖾𝗂𝗑𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝖾 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗂𝗓𝖺𝖽𝗈 𝗉𝖾𝗅𝗈 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖻𝖺𝗅𝗁𝗈. 𝖥𝗈𝗂 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾 𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝖺𝗍𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗇𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌ı́𝗏𝖾𝗅, 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝖾𝗑𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗅𝗈, 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖻𝗂𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗆 𝖺̀ 𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗈𝗅𝖺 𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗁𝗈𝗌 𝖾𝗆 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗋𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗈́𝗀𝗂𝗈, 𝖺 𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖺𝗋 𝗇𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗏𝖺̃𝗈 𝖿𝖺𝗓𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗈 𝗃𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗋 𝖾𝗆 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝗂𝖺 𝗁𝗈𝗋𝖺, 𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗆 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝗁𝗈𝗋𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝗋𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗇𝖼̧𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝗈 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗊𝗎𝖾.
𝖤𝗌𝗍𝖺 𝗋𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖺 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝗈̂𝗌, 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖺 𝗇𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖺 𝖽𝖾𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖾̂𝗇𝖼𝗂𝖺 𝖽𝗂𝗀𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗅, 𝖺 𝖺𝗋𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖺 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖿𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖻𝗋𝖺𝖽𝖺 𝖽𝗈 𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗈 𝗇𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗌 𝗏𝗂𝖽𝖺𝗌. 𝖭𝖺̃𝗈 𝖾́ 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝖼𝖺𝗌𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗌 𝗇𝗈 𝗍𝗈𝗉 𝟣𝟢 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝗌 𝗉𝖺ı́𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝖽𝖺 𝖴𝗇𝗂𝖺̃𝗈 𝖤𝗎𝗋𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗂𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖻𝖺𝗅𝗁𝖺𝗆 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖺, 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝖾̂𝗌 𝗁𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖺 𝗆𝖾́𝖽𝗂𝖺. 𝖭𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝗂𝗍𝗈𝗌 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖻𝖺𝗅𝗁𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗌, 𝖺𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖼𝖾 𝗈 𝗉𝖾𝗌𝗈 𝖽𝖺 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖺𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈, 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗈𝗌 𝗍𝖾𝗆 𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗎𝗋𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗈 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝖽𝖺 𝗏𝖾𝗓 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀𝖾 𝖽𝗈 𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗈 𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖻𝖺𝗅𝗁𝖺𝗆, 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗅𝗈𝖼𝖺𝖼̧𝗈̃𝖾𝗌 𝖽𝗂𝖺́𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗌 𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝗈 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗌𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝖺-𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖻𝖺𝗅𝗁𝗈 𝗇𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝗀𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖺 𝗃𝗈𝗋𝗇𝖺𝖽𝖺, 𝗍𝖺̃𝗈 𝖾𝗑𝖺𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝗎𝗇𝖾𝗋𝖺𝖽𝖺. 𝖥𝗈𝗋𝗆𝖺-𝗌𝖾 𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗆 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗈𝗋𝗂𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗋𝖺𝗋𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝗆 𝖺 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖽𝖾 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋, 𝗌𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋, 𝗇𝗈 𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖺𝖼̧𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗎𝗆. 𝖮 𝗌𝖾𝗎 𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗈 𝖾́ 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗂𝖽𝗈 𝗉𝖾𝗅𝗈 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖻𝖺𝗅𝗁𝗈. 𝖮 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝖻𝗋𝖺 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺́ 𝖿𝗋𝖺𝗀𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝖽𝗈 𝖾, 𝗆𝗎𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗌 𝗏𝖾𝗓𝖾𝗌, 𝖾𝗑𝖺𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗈.
𝖢𝗈𝗆 𝗈 𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗈 𝖽𝖾𝗏𝗈𝗅𝗏𝗂𝖽𝗈 𝖺̀𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝖺𝗌, 𝖿𝗈𝗂 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌ı́𝗏𝖾𝗅 𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗅𝗎𝗆𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗋 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾. 𝖮 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗆𝖻𝖾́𝗆 𝗌𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗈𝗎, 𝗇𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝗈 𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗀𝖺̃𝗈, 𝖿𝗈𝗂 𝗈 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗃𝗈 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖼̧𝖺. 𝖴𝗆𝖺 𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖾𝗆 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗈 𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖺𝖼̧𝗈 𝗉𝗎́𝖻𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗈 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝖾́ 𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗈𝗋 𝖽𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗈, 𝗆𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝗅𝗎𝗀𝖺𝗋 𝖽𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖼̧𝖺 𝖾 𝖽𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗈. 𝖮𝗇𝖽𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗋-𝗌𝖾 𝗇𝗎𝗆 𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖼𝗈 𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝗍𝗈𝖺𝗅𝗁𝖺 𝗇𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗏𝖺 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗋 𝗈 𝗉𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝗎𝗆 𝖼𝖺𝖿𝖾́. 𝖮𝗇𝖽𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝗋𝗎𝖺𝗌, 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝖼̧𝖺𝗌 𝖾 𝗃𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗌 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗃𝖺𝗆 𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝖻𝗃𝗎𝗀𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝖺̀ 𝗅𝗈́𝗀𝗂𝖼𝖺 𝗆𝖾𝗋𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺. 𝖯𝗈𝗋𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖺 𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾̂𝗇𝖼𝗂𝖺 𝖽𝖾 𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖺̃𝗌, 𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗏𝗂𝗆𝗈𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗂 𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝗈𝖼𝗎𝗉𝖺𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈 𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖺𝖼̧𝗈𝗌 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗆 𝗈𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝖻𝗂𝗍𝖺, 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗈 𝗌𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝗎𝗆 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗌 𝗏𝗈𝗅𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗆 𝖺 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗋 𝖺̀𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝖺𝗌.
𝖭𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗁𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗅𝖾𝗑𝗈̃𝖾𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗌𝗍𝖺́𝗅𝗀𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗌, 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗏𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗆 𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝗎𝗆 𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗀𝖺̃𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗌𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗂𝗍𝖺 𝖼𝗂𝖼𝗅𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾. 𝖬𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗏𝖾𝗓 𝗈 𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗀𝖺̃𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝗃𝖺 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗋𝗈. 𝖯𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝗌𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗌𝖾 𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗀𝗎𝖾𝗆 𝖺𝗌 𝟦𝟢 𝗁𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖻𝖺𝗅𝗁𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖺𝗂𝗌, 𝖺̀𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖺𝗆, 𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗋𝖾, 𝗎𝗇𝗌 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗎𝗍𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝗓𝖾𝗅𝗈 𝗂𝗇𝗏𝗂𝗌ı́𝗏𝖾𝗂𝗌, 𝗎𝗆 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝖺́𝖼𝗂𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗂𝗍𝖺𝖽𝗈 𝗉𝖾𝗅𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗂𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗈𝗌 𝗈𝗅𝗁𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝗈 𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗋𝖺̃𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗌 𝗏𝖾𝗃𝖺𝗆 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗈 𝖺𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝗋. 𝖭𝖺̃𝗈 𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗌 𝗇𝗈́𝗌 “𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗋 𝖺̀ 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗈𝗅𝖺”? 𝖯𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝗌𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗌𝖾 𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗀𝗎𝖾 𝗎𝗆 𝖽𝗂𝖺 𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖻𝖺𝗅𝗁𝗈 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝗆 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗌𝖾 𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗀𝗎𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾 𝖽𝗈 𝗌𝖺𝗅𝖺́𝗋𝗂𝗈, 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗈 𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗈 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗏𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝗃𝖺 𝖺𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗎ı́𝖽𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗁𝗈𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗆, 𝖺𝗊𝗎𝗂 𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗂. 𝖯𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝗌𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗌𝖾 𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗀𝗎𝖾 𝗈 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖻𝖺𝗅𝗁𝗈 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝗈𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖻𝖺𝗅𝗁𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗁𝗈𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗌, 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗆 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖺𝗋 𝖺 𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗌 𝖺 𝗁𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗌 𝖾𝗆 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗈 𝗌𝗈𝗅 𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖺 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗅𝗁𝖺. 𝖯𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝗌𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗌𝖾 𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗀𝗎𝖾 𝖺 𝗅𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗋𝖺𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍ı́𝗇𝗎𝖺 𝖾𝗆 𝗌𝖾𝗍𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗌 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗂𝗌, 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗈 𝖽𝗂𝗋𝖾𝗂𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝗈 𝗈́𝖼𝗂𝗈 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗁𝖺𝖽𝗈 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗆𝗂𝗍𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝖾𝗌𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝖾 𝗏𝗈𝗅𝗍𝖾𝗆 𝖺 𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝖾 𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗀𝗈𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝗎𝗆 𝗁𝗈𝗋𝖺́𝗋𝗂𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗎𝗆. 𝖬𝖺𝗌 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝗈𝗌 𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗀𝗈̃𝖾𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖺 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺̃𝗈 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝗓𝖾𝗋, 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗇𝗎𝗇𝖼𝖺 𝗌𝖾 𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗀𝗎𝖾 𝖺 𝗏𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖽𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝖽𝖺𝗋 𝖽𝖾 𝗏𝗂𝖽𝖺.
* Professora do 1º Ciclo do Ensino Básico
IN "ESQUERDA" - 13/05/25 .