TRÊS ANOS SEM O MEU IRMÃO

Passei muitos dias das minhas férias, voluntariamente enclausurada no espaço do meu irmão. Horas a ouvir música, discos de vinil, anos 80, gosto ecléctico. Um refúgio da minha adolescência desajeitada e incómoda (será que há de outro tipo?). Livros? Muitos!  Já tinha referido? Há pois! Gosto ecléctico e posso acrescentar refinado e inteligente.

Esta é uma amostra das faixas gastas pelo uso e ao mesmo tempo uma dedicatória:
 "As the days of his life are but grains of sand/As they fall from your open hand/ And vanish upon the land". 

Alan Parsons Project
 Pyramid

 The Eagle Will Rise Again

 And i could easily fall from grace

 Then another would take my place

For the chance to behold your face

 As the days of my life are but grains of sand

As they fall from your open hand

 At the call of the wind's command

 Many words are spoken when there's nothing to say

 The fall upon the ears of those who don't know the way

To read between the lines, that lead between the lines, that lead

 me to you

 All that i ask you

 Is, show me how to follow you and i'll obey

 Teach me how to reach you i can't find my own way

 Let me see the light, let me be the light

 As the sun turns slowly around the sky

Till the shadow of night is high

 The eagle will learn to fly

 As the days of his life are but grains of sand

As they fall from your open hand

And vanish upon the land

 Many words are spoken when there's nothing to say

The fall upon the ears of those who don't know the way
To read between the lines, that lead between the lines, that lead

 me to you

Show me how to follow you and i'll obey

Teach me how to reach you i can't find my own way

Let me see the light, let me be the light

And so, with no warning, no last goodbye

 In the dawn of the morning sky

 The eagle will rise again