porto de pesca

2014

Sagres

O som das gaivotas que sobrevoavam o porto de pesca, chegavam até mim como um murmúrio vindo de dentro. Era como um chamamento e em simultâneo um aviso. Não vás. Fica. Não vás. Tantas vezes em momentos anteriores ouvira eu este aviso. Tantas vezes quantas aquelas em que o ignorara. Era mais forte o impulso. Sempre mais forte. Enquanto descia a rua, vazia de gente, revia alguns dos momentos em que o impulso me levara a agir sem pensar. Agora não. Agora pensava. Agia e pensava. Sabia que ela estava ali. Sabia que a ia rever. Sabia porque o haviam dito. Sabes quem está lá em baixo no porto? E eu nem hesitei. O impulso. Ainda tive tempo de ouvir parte do resto. Mas não está sozinha. E já não quis saber mais, já não quis ouvir mais. Ela estava ali e isso bastava-me. Fosse com quem fosse. Ia vê-la. Ia revê-la. Talvez não a mesma pessoa, que os anos transformam. Umas vezes mais por dentro do que por fora. Mas ela estava ali. E em passos largos cheguei ao fim da descida. Já se avistavam os barcos ancorados na baía. Já se ouviam os sons dos mastros e o chocalhar dos cascos na água. Ela estava ali. Não a via ainda e já a sentia. Como sentira tantas vezes no passado. Esse passado tão longínquo que se perdeu no tempo, e já não sei há quanto tempo foi. Ela estava ali. Agora conseguia cheirá-la. Um cheiro doce e suave de fêmea que não precisa de macho. E eu ainda achava que podia ser tudo isso de que ela não precisava, mas que eu achava que sim. Agora conseguia tocar-lhe os longos cabelos negros num desalinho ao vento. Onde estava ela? Olhava em redor. Perscrutava com o olhar todo o porto e não a via. Cerrava o olhar em direcção aos barcos e não a via. Mas sentia-a. Onde estava ela?

*

The sound of gulls flying over the fishing port came to me like a murmur from within. It was like a call and simultaneously a warning. Do not go. Stay. Do not go. So many times in previous moments I had heard this warning. As many times as she had ignored him. The momentum was stronger. Always stronger. As I walked down the street, empty of people, I reviewed some of the moments when the impulse had led me to act without thinking. Not now. Now I thought. He acted and thought. He knew she was there. He knew he was going to review her. He knew why they said it. Do you know who's down at the harbor? And I didn't even hesitate. The urge. I still had time to hear some of the rest. But it is not alone. And I didn't want to know anymore, I didn't want to hear anymore. She was there and that was enough for me. Whoever it was. He was going to see her. He was going to see her again. Maybe not the same person that the years transform. Sometimes more inside than out. But she was there. And in stride I reached the end of the descent. Already the boats were anchored in the bay. The sounds of the masts and the rattling of hooves in the water were already heard. She was there. I didn't see her yet and already felt her. As it had felt so many times in the past. This past is so far gone that it was lost in time, and I don't know how long ago it was. She was there. Now he could smell her. A sweet, sweet female smell that doesn't need a male. And I still thought it might be all she didn't need, but I thought so. Now she could touch her long black hair in a tangle of wind. Where was she? I looked around. He scanned the whole harbor and did not see it. He was looking at the boats and not seeing her. But I felt it. Where was she?