Rianne (vive) no auto-piloto.

“Не ищите ответов”, - сказал он четко. Однако мне потребовалось несколько лет, чтобы понять эту фразу. Её произнёс профессор Философии и пациент отделения кардиологии. “Умейте задавать себе правильные вопросы”. Я на него смотрела и донца не могла понять смысл сказанного. В тот момент мне хотелось лишь выспаться, но с того дня я «допрашивала» себя чаще: зачем я год за годом, отдаю медицине лучшие годы своей жизни? И так уже шесть лет. Мы скоро, буквально через пару месяцев, будем врачами. Что же мне необходимо, какие профессиональные и человеческие качества я должна развивать, чтобы допустить себя к людям в худший момент их жизни? Оказывается, есть многое за пределами учебников. Задавая себе все время вопросы, я понимаю, что приближаюсь ближе и ближе к ответу. Дифференциальный диагноз, интерпретация анализов, написание истории болезней, правильно собранный анамнез — это те термины, которые мы слышим каждый день, которые мы за шесть лет должны уметь применять в пользу пациента...

I wish I had enough heart left to fall in love with you this emptiness is everywhere is every me I have grown immune to things like pain alcohol love If I could only get a naiviness shot I'd fall in love with you first thing in the morning. amorousé equals to not knowing take me wherever (I know this path I have spilt this blood) I have been (shredded) everywhere. when you leave close this heart after you (tape me) 

eu te encontrei haviam lá mil correntezas que me levavam ao mesmo lugar eu nao te amei saibas que sei mentir quando preciso nadar nos calculei e perdi a conta de quantas vezes precisei falar e de uma so vez redigi palavras cuspidas no ar evaporei a pontuação - larguei freios corri a te amar desmistifiquei as mil armadilhas que me convenciam a voltar inaugurei avenidas com teu nome que sempre me guiavam ao lar viuvei enquanto te escutava mas ja nao sabia te amar  (interpretar) mal afundei e desacreditei nossos planos; so quis poetar. agürei essas tantas vezes que quisera dissertar. quiçá quem não o escreve respira sem ar. 

This journey is over. That was a great chunk of my life. I have rented a garage and left a bunch of stuff behind. I shall come back to retrieve it, but will I want it all back, when I reopen those boxes, will I still need them? So I thought about this, and these are the transcripts of my thoughts: I first step foot on this land as a teenager who denied the existence of the Home. The world was bound to be the Home, and I knew it, even then. I have always suffered from chronic curiosity. We felt everything, we knew nothing, we toasted and danced, we slept on couches and had neck-pain the other day. I was present and took part in weddings, police investigations, births, fires, carbon monoxide poisoning and car accidents. I left my appendix here, I ran through the streets of a cold winter to catch an ambulance before they left to help a friend, I didn’t think about slipping on the ice and dying, not a single moment. I developed a nail polish habit, a skin care routine and depression as...

It's like you're stuck in yourself, I answered him, soundly, it's like you're hitting the walls, and the walls are your skin, and you can't get out, it doesn't even echo. He looked at me with a grim on his face, as if words were too little or not powerful enough to put it out there. I knew this, because I had been trying to reach out for words myself all this time, but I hadn't been able to. The streets were covered in a mud that reminded us nothing of Christmas time, in fact, our slow pace made it look like we belonged somewhere else, a warmer else. Before I began to calculate how long these shoes would survive, he grabbed my arm, in a way that made me wake up and mess up with the show-math. You see, it's easy to play out the victim, or even easier to play strong, it's a lot harder to do this, what you're doing, to be wide-open about your weak spots and to bring up a solution in the same strain of thought. I kept walking around the mud, feeli...

Atenção, Das coisas que eu não te disse, mas com muita insegurança, fazendo desvios, inclusive dos teus abraços, tentei te dizer, eis aqui mais do que algumas. Eu não sinto a tua falta, pois há muito aprendi a viver sem ninguém. Cultivei esse objetivo, agora colho. Por isso, desde o primeiro momento que te deixei entrar, não foi casual, foi tudo planejado, eu havia preparado tudo isso pra ti, uma cadeira ao meu lado, que andava vazia, a cadeira-companhia. Por isso não sinto a tua falta, deixo apenas que tu acrescentes algo a mais à minha vida, então faz-lo! E se te dá vontade de aqui mesmo levantar-te, esvaziar a cadeira, eu nem sei se me restam as forças para pensar em querer chorar, pois já vi tanto triste que esse seria apenas mais um triste na pilha dos tristes, acostumado, comum, não menos triste! Mas conhecido. Como o amigo que toma o café, e sái, desavisado, até a próxima. Fora isso, não te disse que penso em ti. O tempo inteiro. Imagino um carro com porta-malas grande o sufi...

Vivo em um limbo cultural Dou brecha ao destino Lembro de Maria e Lampião Pego avião Continuo atemporal na tristeza desta geografia do meu sentimento que se espalha que é mais que continental