spoiler visualizarsophia 21/06/2023
Always you.
Rip Oh Jesus How I Adore You ?
esse livro aumentou minha vontade de morar em nova york por um tempo. e eu amei a forma com que mesmo que o que os personagens vivem na história não é algo muito feliz, o final mostra que algumas pessoas e coisas acontecem nas nossas vidas para nos transformar como pessoas e eventualmente nos ajudar a encontrar aquilo que nós queríamos todo esse tempo.
?Their whole marriage, she had submitted to other people's versions of her, retreating into the shape of their desires.
She thought of Frank's vow on their wedding day. When the darkest part of you meets the darkest part of me, it creates light. Now she had completed that process on her own. She had met the darkest part of herself and created this.?
?What is a wedding, Cleo wondered, if not a private dream made public, a fantasy suspended between two worlds like a cat's cradle? But Cleo had never dreamed about getting married. What she fantasized about was her first solo show as an artist, a day dedicated solely to her. What scared her was that recently it was easier to imagine the opening than the actual paintings. She worried that she was one of those artists who care more about being an artist than they do about making art. It was a fear so base, so desperately ordinary, that she never mentioned it to anyone, not even Frank.?
?Cleo and Frank climbed the stairs from the subway's fetid platform and emerged into the airy expanse of the station's main concourse. They looked up at its famed celestial mural and smiled at each other in wordless recognition of their good fortune to live in this city. For even the most jaded New Yorker, it is hard to stand beneath the soaring robin's-egg-blue ceiling of Grand Central, to tilt one's face toward the golden constellations inscribed upon its vaulted dome, without feeling a tug of awe.?
What exactly are you saying to me?" yells my mother.
"YOU CANNOT BE THE LOVE OF MY LIFE!"
"Oh, I remember the two-and-half-year phase," the woman said.
"That was a long time ago for us old folks."
Cleo watched her share a look with her husband that contained unbounded pride, and something else too. Joy, she realized. They were in love. She was having his child. They lived in a one-bedroom in the West Village that no one had to lie to anyone to live in. Did Cleo want that? And if not now, ever? What had she done, marrying Frank? She should have married Quentin. She should have married no one. How did a person learn to live? Learn to be happy? She had surrounded herself with people who didn't know. This couple, with their his-and-hers vacuums, had figured it out.?
?She should have known on their wedding day when Frank bought her the blue orchid, dyed with poisonous ink, that he didn't understand her, never would.?
"You have a funny way of showing that my life is so valuable to you when you make absolutely no concessions or changes to your behavior to account for or accommodate my happiness."
?They were just this regular couple with two little kids, a baby and a toddler. They were going through security, trying to dismantle the pram and get their shoes off and remove the computer, all that shit, you
know, and the baby was crying and the little girl was having a temper tantrum, screaming to be picked up"
Frank shook his head.
?I don?t remember that.?
"Well, in the middle of all that chaos, the wife looked at the husband, they caught each other's eyes over the heads of the bawling kids, and they started laughing."
"Why?? asked Frank.
"Because it was such a nightmare, you know? They had to laugh.?
Cleo thought about this for a moment.
"Actually, that's the point. They
didn't have to. My parents would have been screaming at each other."
"My dad wouldn't have been there to be screamed at.?
Cleo nodded. "Exactly," she said. "But these two, they were in it together. They were laughing."
"And you remember that," said Frank.
"I do."
"Because you want that?"
"Because I realized that that's what life requires. When it gets mesy and difficult and unglamorous. That kind of partnership."
?Suddenly she could se exactly what Frank had looked like as a child. That hopeful, fearful expression as he peered at the world from behind his glasses. She wanted to reach over the table and cup his skull in her hands. She wanted him to know that she would always choose him, always take his side, and that even if he never told her what happened to Cleo, she would understand. Because he was her brother and she was his sister. It was thas simple and that complicated.?
?So what?"
"Let me tell you something," says my mother.
"Those are two of the
most powerful words in the English language. Right between them is a free and happy life."
"Kintsugi," he says.
"It's the Japanese art of mending broken pottery"
"Again, what?"
"They use a special gold lacquer, so the mended pot becomes more beautiful than before it was broken." [?]
"You really think the vase will be more beautiful now?"
"Oh yeah," he says. "More character." [?]
"People are like this too, you know," he says eventually. "We break. We put ourselves back together. The cracks are the best part. You don't have to hide them.?"
"You really believe that?" I say.
"Mm-hm," he says, without looking up. "Believe it. See it in you?
?We stand in the driveway with our arms around each other as they drive away. I guess that's what life should feel like; setting off on a long car ride with all your worries and hopes strapped around you, the people who love you most frantically waving you off as you go.?
?I forgot to tell Frank what the rabbi said about "Thank you" being a prayer. A prayer can be a hope, a request for help, and an act of faith. When I say it to Frank, "Thank you' definitely feels like a prayer.?
?A young couple was running with loose limbed abandon across the large flat stones and laughing loudly, shouting to each other for no reason, it seemed, than the joy of being youthful and beautiful somewhere ancient and beautiful. [?]
"How strange you are," said the boy looking from one to the other. It's an Italian saying. It is something like, 'Wherever you are going, it is waiting for you.??