6 Brazilian melhores commented on

A Brazilian literature is full of historical boas. Or tell me an optimal way to exercise reading and imagination in a dynamic way. This is because it draws a short and generally simple narrative.

We select 6 songs by great authors for you to take advantage of. São eles:

• No restaurant - Carlos Drummond de Andrade
• And she tinha a cabeça cheia deles-Marina Colasanti
• Carnival Leftovers - Clarice Lispector
• To third margem do rio - Guimarães Rosa
• A carteira - Machado de Assis
• A caçada - Lygia Fagundes Telles

1. No restaurant - Carlos Drummond de Andrade

- I want lasanha.
That woman's blueprint - four years, not maximum, unzipping na ultraminissaia - entered decided not to restaurant. He didn't need a menu, he didn't need a table, he didn't need anything. He knew perfectly what he wanted. He wanted lasanha.
Either country, that badly just parked or car with a miraculous vague, appears to direct to operação-jantar, which is, or was, two countries compete.
- Meu bem, come here.
- I want lasanha.
- Escute here, dear. First of all, escort you to the table.

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- Não, já escolhi. Lasanha. What a stop - lia-se na cara do pai. Relutante, a garotinha condescendeu em sit-se first, and depois entrust or prato:
- You want lasanha.
- Filhinha, why don't we ask for a camarão? Você gosta tanto de camarão.
- Gosto, but I want lasanha.
- Eu sei, eu sei that you love camarão. People ask for a fry bem bacana de camarão. Ta?
- I want lasanha, papai. I don't want to shrimp.
- Let's go fazer uma coisa. Depois do camarão to people traça uma lasanha. How's it going?
- You eat camarão e eu like lasanha.
O garçom approximaou-se, e la foi logo instructing:
- I want uma lasanha.
O pai de ella corrigiu: - Swallow a fry of camarão pra dois. Caprichada. To coisinha amuou. Then I could not want? Did you want to love me? Why am I forbidden to eat lasanha? Those 14 interrogations were also called not his face, but you keep his lips in reserve. When o garçom voltou com os pratos e o serviço, ela atacou:
- Moço, te lasanha?
- Perfectly, senhorita.
O pai, not counterattack:
- Or senhor providenciou to fry?
- Ha, sim, doutor.
- Of big shrimp?
- Daqueles legais, doutor.
- Well, then you see me um chinite, e pra ela... Or what do you want, meu anjo?
- Uma lasanha.
- Traz um suco de laranja pra ela.
As a chopinho and a suco de laranja, I saw a famous shrimp fry, which, to surprise the restaurant inside, interested not to unravel two events, was not challenged but senhorita. On the contrary, he papou-a, e bem. A silent manducação atestava, ainda a time, no world, a vitória do mais forte.
- Was this a coisa, hem? - Comentou o pai, com um sorriso bem fed. - Saturday you see, people repeat... Combined?
- Agora a lasanha, não é, papai?
- Eu is satisfied. Your shrimps are great! But are you going to eat the same?
- Eu e você, tá?
- Meu love, eu ...
- Tem de accompany me, ouviu? Pede to lasanha.
Or pai baixou a cabeça, chamou or garçom, pediu. Aí, um casal, na table vizinha, bateu palmas. Or rest of the accompanying room. Or did I know where to go. To garotinha, impassível. Se, na conjunura, or power young cambaleia, vem aí, com total force, or power ultra-young.

Nesse little told the renowned writer Carlos Drummond de Andrade, we have a tangle that reveals a curious situation between a home and his 4-year-old filha.

Here, Drummond shows us determination and perspicácia da criança, that with firmness impõe sua vontade. It is a loaded plot of um subtle humor, You can show how a small girl got what she wanted, just as much as against the country.

A graça is precisely no contrast between a personalidade forte e or "tamanho" da garotinha. Assim, Drummond ends or told us faking about a force do "ultrajovem".

O let me tell you that it was published, just received the title Or ultra-young power It brings together texts by the author published in the decades of the 60s and 70s in the press.

For além of funny and innocent character, we can interpret history as uma metaphor of força da juventudeNow that the country has been facing a dark period of military rule, and now two young people will rise up against the riot and authoritarianism of the regime.

2. And she tinha a cabeça cheia deles-Marina Colasanti

Every day, the first sun da manhã, mãe e filha sentavam-se na soleira da porta. E deited to the head of the filha no colo da mãe, she is coming to taste-lhe piolhos.

The agitated fingers conheciam his tarefa. As seen, patrolhavam a cabeleira separating wicks, squaring between the two legs, exposed or clear bluish do couro. In the rhythmic alternation of its pontas macias, we sought the tiny inimigos, slightly plucking with as unhas, in the caress of cafuné.

As a face tucked in, not dark, pano da saia da mãe, spilled the hair on the head, a filha deixava-se ficar enlanguescida, When the massage was drummed, the fingers seemed to penetrate-the head, and the crescent heat da manhã lhe entrefechava os olhos.

For maybe due to drowsiness that invades, prazerous delivery of burning submerges to other fingers, that nothing perceives naquela manhã - not to be, perhaps, a slight pontada - when to me, devastating gulosa or secret reduto da nape, she sure was attacked between polegar and indicator e, puxando-o ao long do fio black and lustrous in gesture of vitória, extraiu-lhe or first thought.

Displayed as a mix of caffeine and care, or meticulous work in tasting piolhos na cabeleira da filha é trazido nesse conto curto. Written by Marina Colasanti, or text was published in 1986, Contos de amor rasgado.

He is interesting as an Italian-Brazilian writer show of poetic manner a situation corriqueira na maternity. A narrative and feita na third person and in a descriptive way, revealing in detail an intimate moment between me and filha. A common situation or potential to enable many readers and readers to identify themselves.

Here too ha um contrast, not qual to activity, apparently unpleasant to extract piolhos, it is also a moment of tenderness. A menina devotes herself to care giving me a great deal of reflection on her life and a moment of clarity of thoughts.

She also read: Crônica Eu sei, mas não devia, by Marina Colansanti

3. Carnival Remains - Clarice Lispector

No, no of this last carnival. But I do not know why this transported me to my childhood and to the quartas-feiras de cinzas nas ruas mortas with esvoaçavam remains of serpentine and confetti. Uma ou outra blessed with a véu charging head to the igreja, crossing a street that is extremely empty that follows the carnival. I tied it to see or another year. And when the party is approaching, how can I explain the intimate agitation that was taking me? As the world became open to the botão that was big scarlet rose. As is ruas e praças do Recife enfim explained why they have been feitas. As human voices are emphasized, they sing the capacity of prazer that was secret in me. Carnival was meu, meu.

However, in reality, there was little that participated. I have never been to a childish dance, I have never fancied. In compensation ofixavam-me ficate some 11 hours a night at the door of the escada do leftover onde morávamos, olhando avid others will have fun. Two precious coisas eu ganhava now and economizava-as with avareza for the last three days: a lance-perfume and a sack of confetti. Ah, it's getting hard to write. Because I feel like a ficarei of dark heart to verify that, even adding a little bit of joy, I was so sedentary that um quase nothing ever made me a happy boy.

E ace masks? Eu tinha medo, but it was a vital and necessary medo because it came to find a minha more profound suspicion that the human face also fosse a kind of mask. À porta do meu pé de escada, it is a falava masquerade with me, suddenly it enters I do not contact indispensável com or my inner world, which was not a feito only of enchanted elves and princes, more of people like seu mystery. I tied my scare like masquerades, pois, it was essential for me.

Do not fancy me: you do not give me any worries like me, no head at home for the carnival of criança. More than that, I asked a number of minhas irmãs to enlist those meus straight hair that caused me so much distress and in addition to having frizzy hair less for three days a year. Nesses três dias, ainda, minha irmã acedia ao meu intense dream of being a moça - eu bad could wait pela saída de uma infância vulnerável - e pintava minha boca de batom bem forte, passing também ruge nas minhas faces. Então eu I felt pretty and feminine, eu escava da meninice.

More houve a different carnival two outros. So miraculous that eu could not prove that so much was given to me, eu, that I will never learn to ask for little. It is that one of my friend's minha would resolve to fantasize about filha and or not my fantasy was not the figure of Rosa. For isso he would buy sheets and sheets of cor-de-rosa crepom paper, as quais, I suppose, he intended to imitate the petals of a flower. Boquiaberta, eu assisted little by little fantasy taking shape and growing up. Embora de pétalas or crepe paper nem de longe lembrasse, he seriously thought that it was some more beautiful fantasies that never turned.

Foi when it happened, just by chance, or unexpected: on crepom paper, and a lot. E a mãe de minha amigo - maybe attending to meu mute appeal, ao meu mute despair of inveja, or maybe for pure goodness, ha, there will be plenty of paper - resolveu fazer for me too, a fantasy of rose as it will remain from material. Naquele carnival, pois, pela first time na life eu teria or always wanted: to be another than not the same.

I tied the preparations já deixavam silly of happiness. I will never feel so busy: carefully, my friend and we will calculate everything, in terms of fantasy we would use combinations, pois be chovesse and fantasy melt hair less We would be dressed in some way - à ideia de uma chuva that suddenly deixasse us, us feminine pudores of oito years, of combinations in a row, we would previously die of shame - more ah! Deus would help us! no choveria! Quanto ao fato de minha fantasy only to exist because of the leftovers of another, engoli with somebody who made meu proud, that always fierce fora, and humble oil or that fate gave me of esmola.

But why exactly that carnival, or the only one of fantasy, did I have to be so melancholic? From manhã I cede not Sunday eu já stava of curled hair so that I tied in the afternoon or frisado pegasse bem. But the minutes do not pass, of so much anxiety. Enfim, enfim! Chegaram three hours late: careful not to tear or paper, I dressed in pink.

Many things that happen to me so much better than you are, eu já perdoei. Not so much is it possible to understand now: or dice game of fate and irrational? And reckless. When she was dressed in crepom paper, all armed, she had her hair rolled up and ainda sem batom e ruge - minha mãe Suddenly piorou muito de saúde, a sudden alvoroço grew up at home and sent me to buy depressa um remédio na pharmacy. I went running dressed in pink - mas o rosto ainda nu não tinha a moça mask that would wear minha tão exposta child life - I was running, running, perplexed, stunned, between streamers, confetes and shouts of carnival. A joy two outros scared me.

When you spend hours in the atmosphere at home acalmou-se, minha irmã me penteou and pintou-me. But somebody else has died in me. And, like the stories that we have read about fades that enchant and disenchant people, we are disenchanted; It was not mais uma rosa, it was de novo uma simples menina. Desciaté a rua e ali de pé eu não was a flower, it was a pensive palhaço of incarnate lips. Na minha encourages to feel êxtase, at the same time it comes to ficar happier more with remorse lembrava-me of the serious state of minha mãe and de novo eu morria.

Only hours after that he saw salvation. And he depressa grabbing hold of her because he needed to save me so much. A boy of about 12 years old, or that to me means a raptor, that boy is very beautiful for me, a lot of carinho, grossura, brincadeira e sensualidade, cobriu meus cabelos, já smooth, confete: for an instant we face each other, sorrindo, sem falar. So now, an 8-year-old woman, consider the rest of the hair that somebody has acknowledged me: she was, sim, a pink.

Here Clarice Lispector provides us with her sensitive and philosophical writing to tell an event of his childhood. O conto integra or livro Felicidade Clandestina, from 1971.

Not autobiographical text, a writer, who is known to be mysterious and enigmatic, reveals a few times that are difficult for menina. Sua mãe de ella sofria de uma doença seria, dying when Clarice is 10 years old.

Assim, in Remains of Carnival, she narrates everything to her expectation to experience a fanciful leaf of flower, enquanto, by order of destiny, her mãe piora de saúde.

O fato deixou so upset that, years ago, she managed to transmit words Confused feelings that give euphoria to frustration and sadness.

About her childhood as a writer she declared once:

"Believe me in Recife. (...) Na infância eu tive a magical daily life. Eu was very happy and hid to see minha mãe assim (doente). Do you know that only once again, with violence, did he end people or did he owe us to childhood? "

4. To third margem do rio - Guimarães Rosa

Nosso pai was a homemaker, ordeiro, positive; I have been assimilated since mold and child, hair that testifies to various sensible people, when I inquire for information. I am very happy about it, I am not more stupid, but sadder than others, we are aware. Just be still. Nossa mãe was quem regia, and that ralhava did not daily eat people - minha irmã, meu irmão e eu. But I know that, one day, nosso pai sent a canoe for himself.

It was serious. He entrusted a special canoe, made of pau de vinhático, small, badly like a tabuinha da stern, as to fit just or paddler. But it must be entirely manufactured, strong and arched in place, proper to last in water for twenty or thirty years. Nossa mãe jurou muito against ideia. It would be that, he, that nessas arts no vadiava, is provided now for fishing and hunting? Nosso pai nada no dizia. Nossa casa, no tempo, ainda was more next to the river, the work of nem quarto de légua: or the river there stretching out big, deep, deep as always. Long, you can't see the shape of another beira. And it is not possible, on the day that the canoe was ready.

We are happy and careful, we are pai encalcou or chapéu and decide um adeus for people. He does not have other words, not pegou matula e trouxa, not fez to any recommendation. Nossa mãe, to achou people that she esbravejar, but persisted under some pale, mascou or beiço e bramou: - "Cê vai, oque fique, you never turn!" Nosso pai suspended in response. He spied meekly for me, stealing me from going too, for a few steps. I was afraid of the anger of nossa mãe, but I obeyed, from time to time jeito. Or rumo daquilo animava me, chega que um purpose perguntei: - "Pai, or senhor take me together, nessa sua canoa?" He only returned or olhar em mim, and threw me to bênção, with a gesture sending me back. Fiz que vim, plus ainda virei, na grota do mato, to know. Nosso pai entered the canoe and unmoored, paddling hair. E a canoe saiu se indo - in the shadow of the same, feito um jacaré, Comprida longa.

Nosso pai não voltou. He has not been to any part of it. He only executes the invention of staying in those spaces of the river, from middle to middle, always inside the canoe, to avoid jumping, never again. A estranheza dessa verdade deu to show people everything. Here there was nothing, it happened. You relatives, vizinhos and conhecidos nossos, will meet, take together with him.

Nossa mãe, shameful, behaved with great sanity; for isso, all of us will think of us because we do not want to fail: doideira. Só uns achavam or much of power also be payment of promessa; or who, nosso pai, who knows, out of scruple of being with some feia doença, who seja, with leprosy, deserted for another sina to exist, perto and longe of his family give him. As voices of the news are giving pelas certas pessoas - passadores, dwellers of beiras, tied up with another band - unbelieving that nosso pai never arose to take terra, em ponto nem canto, de dia nem de noite, shapes how he cursava no laugh, let go alone. Então, pois, nossa mãe e os ostentados nossos, assentaram: que o mantimento que tivesse, hidden in a canoe, was spent; e, ele, ou disembarked and traveled s’embora, for jamais, or that at least it was more correct, or regretted, for the uma time, home.

Not that I'm cheating. I would meet the same trazer for him, every day, a lot of stolen food: the idea that I felt, logo na first noite, when or people we did not experience to turn up fires in the river, inasmuch as, not enrolled in them, they prayed and stayed. Depois, do not follow, appeared, com radadura, broa de pão, chunk of bananas. Enxerguei nosso pai, not over an hour, so costly to survive: only assim, ele not year-long, sitting not founding the canoe, suspended not smooth of the river. He saw me, no remou for ca, no fez sinal. Show or eat, depositing a number of stones from the ravine, safe from the mexer bug and dry from chuva and orvalho. Isso, who fiz, e refiz, always, tempos a fora. Surprise that later you tive: that we were most wise about my commission, only covered up not knowing; ela mesma deixava, facilitated, leftover coisas, to or meu get. Nossa mãe muito no demonstrava.

He sent vir or uncle nosso, irmão dela, to help our farm and business. Mandou vir or mestre, for us, you meninos. It is incumbent on the father who one day clothed himself, in praia de margem, to swear and cry out to us, ‘to give up on the tristonha teima. From another, from the start, to me, I will see you two soldiers. Tudo o que no valeu de nada. Our country passes a long time, sighted or dilute, crossing a canoe, we leave no one to catch up or down. The same when they were, not very face, two workers of the day, that trouxeram by boat and tencionavam to shoot the portrait, not win: nosso pai se He disappeared for another band, he approached a canoe no brejão, de léguas, that he did, through reeds and mato, and only the conhecesse, by spans, to drain, give him.

People have to get used to it. Too bad, that, like here, people the same never got used to it, uh, no real. I shoot for myself, that, not that I wanted, and not that I did not want, only with nosso pai achava me: subject that jogava for after my thoughts. Or severe that it was, I don't understand, in a nenhuma way, like the agüentava. De dia e de noite, with sun or downpours, heat, serene, and friagens terríveis de mid-do-ano, we stay, só like chapéu velho na cabeça, for all the weeks, and months, and the years - sem fazer counted do se-ir do viver. No pojava em nenhuma das duas beiras, nem nas ilhas e croas do rio, no pisou mais em chão nem capim. Certainly, at least, that, to sleep so much, the fizesse mooring of the canoe, in some ponta-de-ilha, I do not hide. But he never arms a foguinho in praia, nem disposed of his feita light, never more risco a phosphorus. Or that he consumed to eat, it was only um quase; Just as people deposited, not between the roots of gameleira, or na lapinha de Pedra do Barranco, ele recolhia pouco, nem or bastável. Didn't adore? E to constant force two arms, for tente na canoe, resisted, same in too many days, no subimento, aí when no lanço da correnteza enormous do rio tudo rola or perigoso, those bodies of dead bugs and paus-de-arvore descendo - fright of esbarro. And he never missed more words, like somebody. Nós, também, no falávamos mais nele. It was only thought. Não, from nosso pai não you could make a difference; And, I know, for a little bit, people fazia that skecia, it was only to wake up de novo, suddenly, with memory, not passing other super-highs.

Minha irma got married; nossa mãe não quis festa. People imagined nele, when they ate a more gummy food; Also like, not gasalhado da night, not helplessness dessas noites de muita chuva, cold, forte, nosso pai só com a mão e uma cabaça to go skiing to a canoe in the temporary water. At the same time, some conheque nosso achava that eu ia ficando more similar com nosso pai. But he knew that now he would turn hairy, bearded, with big, bad and lean, black and two hairs, as the appearance of a bug, according to quase nu, same disposed of peças de roupas than people of tempos in tempos fornecia.

Nem wanted to know about us; não tinha afeto? But, out of affection itself, out of respect, whenever sometimes I louvavam, because of some meu bom proceimento, eu falava: - "Foi pai what a day he taught me to fazer assim ..."; or that it was not or certain, exato; but, that it was a lie for the truth. Knowing that, if he did not start, he did not want to know about people, why, then, he did not go up or down or river, for other paragens, longe, not not found? Só ele soubesse. Mas minha irmã teve menino, the same entestou that she wanted to show for him or the net. Let's see, everyone, no ravine, it was a nice day, minha irmã in a white dress, what has been o do casamento, the erect arms us to criancinha, or husband of the security, to defend yourselves, or sun-guard. Chamou people, I waited. Our country did not appear. Minha irmã chorou, let's all choramos, embraced.

Minha irmã moved, as a husband, for the longe daqui. Meu irmão resolu e se foi, for a city. You mudavam tempos, do not wander down two tempos. Nossa mãe ended up indo also, once again, residing with minha irmã, she was raised. Eu fiquei here, rest. Eu could never want to marry me. Eu remained, as bagagens gives life. Nosso pai lacked mim, eu sei - na vagação, no river no ermo - sem dar reason de seu feito. Let me know that, when I wanted to know the same, and firmly inquired, I said-that-disseram: that it is confirmed that, some time, it was revealed to explain, or homem that to prepare for the canoe. But, now, this is homem já tinha died, no soubesse, fizesse remembrance, you're welcome. Só ace false conversas, sem senso, as per occasion, I do not eat, na vinda das first cheias do rio, com chuvas que não estiavam, all temeram or fim-do-mundo, diziam: that nosso pai fosse or advised that nem Noah, that, therefore, to canoe ele tinha anticipated; pois agora I am interwoven. Meu pai, eu could not hurt. And apontavam já em mim my first white hair.

Sou homem of sad words. What was it that you have so much, so much guilt about? Se o meu pai, always fazendo absent: e o rio-rio-rio, o rio - pondo perpetuo. Eu sofria já o começo de velhice - this life was only delay. Eu mesmo tinha achaques, ânsias, cá de baixo, cansaços, perrenguice of rheumatism. E ele? Because? Devia of suffering demais. De tão gone, he não ia, more day less day, fraquejar do vigor, let the canoe get into the boat, or that bubuiasse sem pulse, na levada do rio, to wake up hours down, in tororoma and not tombo da cachoeira, brava, as fervimento e death. Apertava or heart. Ele estava la, sem a minha tranqüilidade. Sou o blamed do que nem sei, de dor em aberto, no meu forum. Soubesse - se as coisas fossem outras. And I was taking idéia.

Sem fazer eve. Sou doido? No. Na nossa casa, a word doido is not wrong, never again is wrong, for all of us, no doido is condemned. I don't know. Ou, well, everyone. Só fiz, that I was the. Com um lenço, to o aceno be mais. It was too much for me. Wait. Ao por fim, he appeared, aí e la, or vult. He was there, sitting aft. He was there, screaming. Chamei, a few times. E falei, or that urges me, sworn and declared, I have to reinforce by voice: - “Pai, o senhor is velho, já fez o seu tanto… Agora, o senhor vem, no lacks more… O Senhor vem, e eu, agora the same, when he left, to both of you, I took or took his place, do senhor, na canoe!... ”E, assim saying, my heart beatu no compasso do mais certain.

He spoke to me. He signed on. He drove rowing n’água, proava for Cá, agreed. E eu tremi, profound, suddenly: because, before, ele tinha raised or arm and feito um saudar de gesture - or first, depois de tamanhos years old! E eu could not… By dread, my hair is repaired, I ran, I fugi, I threw myself out of it, my foolish procedure. Because it seems to me u vir: give part of além. I am asking, asking, asking for forgiveness.

Sofri or grave cold two Medes, adoeci. I know that no soube mais dele. Sou homem, depois desse falimento? Sou o que não foi, o que vai ficar calado. I know that it is late now, and I am afraid to shorten my life, we are in the world. But, then, at least, that, I don't want to die, hit me with me, and deposit me also numa canoinha de nothing, nessa água que não para, from longas beiras: e, eu, rio abaixo, rio a fora, rio a rio - o rio.

To Terceira Margem Do Rio maybe One of the two most famous books from Brazilian literature, being adapted for the cinema and inspiring composers of music. Written by Guimarães Rosa, it was published unlivro Primeiras Estórias, 1962.

A narrative tells about a simple homem that one day decides to live in a canoe within a river. Assim, we can interpret a canoe as that "third margem", or that it gives or tom extraordinário no entanglement, pois um rio só possui duas margens.

Quem narrates the plot and filho, which shows his conflict and incomprehension as a decision. In the meantime, at the end of the story, or the filho itself takes a change from place to country, but for the best reason, it gives up on replacement.

Or that we can perceive nessa curta historia é that she is revealed uma metaphor of one's own life and journeys that we need to make sozinhos, oiling challenges and learning to flow like water itself.

To know more about o conto, read: A third margem do rio, from Guimarães Rosa.

5. A carteira - Machado de Assis

... Suddenly, Honório olhou para o chão e viu uma carteira. Abaixar-se, apanhá-la e saves-la foi the work of some moments. None of the things I saw, except for a homem that was in the name of a loja, and that, I know, I have rendered:

- Olhe, it is not for her; he lost one time.
- It is true, agreed Honório in shame.

In order to validate the opportunity of this carteira, it is necessary to know that Honório has to pay a manhã uma dívida, four cents and so many thousand-réis, and a carteira trazia or bojo recheado. It does not seem too great for a homeme da position of Honorius, who advocate; but all the quantias are large or small, second to circumstances, and thus could not be superior. Excessive family expenses, initially for serving relatives, and depois for pleasing the woman, who lived abhorred the solidão; daqui dance, jantar dali, chapéus, leques, so much more cousa, that there was no remedy to be discounted or future. He individed. He eats pelas contas de lojas e armazéns; Passou years to borrow, two to um, thirty to another, fifteen to another, and all to grow, and you dances to darem-se, and you pant to eat, um turbilhão perpétuo, uma voragem.

- You are now going bem, não? dizia-lhe lately or Gustavo C..., advocate and family member of the house.
- Agora vou, mentiu or Honório. To truth is that bad.

Few causes, small in size, and remiss constituents; unfortunately she will lose lately a process, in which she will found great hopes. Not only does she receive little, but it seems that the lhe threw somebody into a legal reputation; In any case, andavam muffins us jornais. D. Amélia didn't know anything; It does not contain anything to women, bonuses or business. He does not contava anything to anybody. He pretended to be happy as he swam in a sea of ​​prosperity. When or Gustavo, that all as noites at home give him, say one or two pilhérias, he answered with three and four; e depois he ia ouvir the stretches of German music, which D. Amélia played a lot of the piano, and that or Gustavo escutava with indizível prazer, ou jogavam letters, ou simply falavam de politics. One day, a woman was given a lot of beijos à filha, a four-year-old child, and widowed the olhos molhados; She was scared, and perguntou-lhe what it was. - Nothing nothing. I understand that it was either the middle of the future and the horror of misery. More as hopes, we will return with ease. As the days Melhores Tinham de Vir Dava-lhe comforted Luta.

He was around thirty-four years old; era or princípio da carreira: all principles are difficult. And it's time to work, to wait, to spend, ask for a loan or borrow, to pay badly, and more hours. A lively rush of looking through some damned four-hundredths and so many thousand-reis of cars. It never took so long to count, nem ela cresceu so much, as it does now; e, strictly speaking, or credor não lhe punha a faca aos peitos; more disse-lhe leafed a word azeda, with a gesture mau, and Honório wanted to pay-lhe leafed himself. It was five hours late. He was scared to go to an agiota, but he turned to use asking for anything. Ao cool pela Rua. Da Assembléia is that he saw a carteira no chão, apanhou-a, put his bag, and was walking. During the first few minutes, Honório didn't think anything; He was walking, walking, walking, tied or Largo da Carioca. It did not take long for him to stop for a few moments, after leaving Rua da Carioca, plus voltou logo, and entering Rua Uruguaiana. Sem know how, he achou-se daí a little no Largo de S. Francisco de Paula; And ainda, I know how, he entered a cafe. He asked for some couse and was put up with it, olhando for fora.

He has tried to open a carteira; I could not do anything, just parents and I have value for him. At the same time, and this was the main cause of reflections, consciously asked-what could he use-what money he achasse. He did not ask him how to say what he does not know, but rather as an ironic expression of censorship. Could I launch mão do dinheiro, and go pay as eagerly? Eis or ponto. A conscience ended by saying that he could not, that he had to take a letter to the police, or announce it; More depressing has just come from the dizer isto, vinham os hards da occasion, and puxavam for it, and invited to go pay the coach. Chegavam same to say-lhe that, if he is lost, no one would give-lha; hint that lhe deu animo. Tudo isso before he opened a carteira. He threw the bag, finally, more com medo, quase in hiding; he opened, and flicke trembling. He tinha dinheiro, muito dinheiro; He did not count, but he saw two notes of two thousand-eight, some fifty and twenty; he calculated some seven hundred thousand or more; when less, six cents.

It was a ludicrous pay; It was less some urgent pantry. Honório teve tentações to date os olhos, run to coach, pay, and, depois de paga a dívida, adeus; reconcile-se-ia with himself. He killed the letter, and he was going to lose it, he returned to keep it. But it hurt little he threw another time, and he opened it, with a count of counting or money. Count for what? was it dele? At the end he won and counted: it was seven hundred and thirty thousand. Honório teve um calafrio. Ninguém viu, ninguém soube; It could be a lucky cast, a suboo sorte, um anjo... Honório teve pena de não crer nos anjos... But why didn't I have to create them? E he voltava ao dinheiro, olhava, passava-o pelas mãos; depois, he resolved or contrarário, do not use the achado, restore it. I restored it to burn? He tried to see if there was a carteira algum sinal. "It is houver a name, a qualifier indication, I do not use money," he thought. He squadrons you handbags of carteira. He achou letters, which he did not open, folded bilhetinhos, which he did not read, and for the end a visiting card; he leu or nome; It was Gustavo. But then, a carteira... He examined you for a reason, and it seems he was indeed a friend. He turned inside; he achou mais dous cartões, mais tres, mais cinco. I would not have to wait; was dele. A descoberta saddened. He could not act as money, he was practicing an illicit act, and, in any case, painful to his heart because he was the damage of a friend. Everything or castelo raised esboroou-se like pits of letters. He drank the last drop of coffee, I would see that it was cold. He knew, and then he realized that it was a quase noite. He walked home. It seems that the need for some more empurrões, plus the resistance. "Paciência, disse ele conigo; verei amanhã o que posso fazer. "

Going home, he já Ali achou or Gustavo, a little worried and his own Mr. Amélia or it seemed too. He entered, surrendering, and asked the friend that he was missing some couse.

- Nothing.
- Nothing? Because?
- Put my bag in my hand; Are you missing anything?
- Missing me a carteira, disse or Gustavo sem put a mão no purse. Do you know if someone is achou?
- Achei-a eu, disse Honório delivering-lha.

Gustavo pegou delayed hastily, and olhou distrustful to or friend. Esse olhar foi for Honório like a blow of the stiletto; Depois of so much struggle with necessity, it was a sad prize. He grunted bitterly; e, as o outro lhe perguntasse onde a achara, he deu-lhe as precise explanations.

- More conheceste-a?
- No; achei os teus bilhetes of visit.

Honório deu duas voltas, and I was to change the toilet to or from. Then Gustavo has recently opened a letter, opened, for two bags, two bilhetinhos, which or another I did not want to open nem ler, and it was for Mr. Amélia, who, anxious and tremulous, ripped through thirty thousand pieces: it was a bilhetinho of love.

A carteira, the great author Machado de Assis, was published in 1884 and released on a non-daily basis A estação. A third person narrative contains a dilemma lived by Honório, an apparently advocate and bem-happened, but he is very happy.

Honório acha uma carteira cheia de dinheiro and vive um impasse, pois or value found would be more than enough to pay or that it owes. In the meantime, when you realize that the object belongs to your friend, you decide to return it.

Interestingly, it was told that as we progress to reading, we can perceive various criticisms of the petty bourgeoisie at the end of the 19th century.

Using a single situation as a driving force, Machado reveals numerous conflicts and behaviors of the Rio de Janeiro society of the time. Assim, he is about themes such as superficiality, futility, profit, honesty and adulthood.

6. A caçada - Lygia Fagundes Telles

A loja of ancient tinha or cheiro de uma arca de sacristia with serious embolorized years and light eaten of traça. Com as put two fingers, or homem tocou numa pilha de quadros. A butterfly got up and foi collided with an image of more strains.

- Nice image - disse ele.

A velha threw a lot of coke, and it cleaned one of polegar. She got cold again or not hair.

- É um São Francisco.

He then turned slowly to the tapeçaria who was taking all of the wall, not founding the house. He came closer. Velha approached me too.

- Já I saw that the senhor is interested in the same way and in isso... It's a shame that this has been in the state.

Or homem estendeu a mão attached to tapeçaria, but not chegou a tocá-la.

- It seems that the page is more clear ...
- Sharp? - I repeated to Velha, I put my eyes. He slid my bare surface. - Sharp, how?
- As cores are more alive. A senhora passou alguma coisa nela?

A velha carou-o. And she baixou or olhar for the image of more decepadas. Or homem was so pale and perplexed as far as imagem.

- No passei nada, imagine... Why or senhor ask?
- Notei a difference.
- Não, no passei nada, essa tapeçaria does not have a more mild escova, or senhor não vê? Acho que é a poeira that is sustaining or tecido, accentu it, pulling novamente or grampo da cabeça. She rolled between her fingers, eating thoughtfully. Teve um muxoxo:

- Foi um unknown that trouxe, needed a lot of money. Eu said that the view was too ravaged, that it was difficult to find a buyer, but he insisted so much... He still asked for it. Over the years isso. E or such a boy never again appeared to me.

- Extraordinary ...

A velha I did not know now or homem was referring to tapeçaria or a case that she had just told him. She covered the shoulders. She went back to wiping unhas like a staple.

- I could sell it, but I want to be frank, because it is not worth the same. Na hour to detach, he is capable of falling into pieces.

O homem acendeu um cigar. His hand trembled. Em que tempo, meu Deus! At what time she would have attended that same dinner. Where? ...

It was a caçada. Not first plane, stave or retensioned bow caçador, betting for a thick touceira. A deeper plane, or second hunter, spreading through the trees of the forest, but this was just a vague silhouette, whose face would be reduced to a haggard outline. Powerful, absolute he was or first caçador, with a violent beard like a bolus of serpents, your muscles tense, waiting for the caça to get up to give up the mushroom.

Or homem breathe with effort. He vagou or olhar pela tapeçaria that has a greenish color from a storm storm. Poisoning the green-moss-covered tomato, we stand out stains of a black-purple color that seemed to run off the foliage, slip off the hunter's boots and back, not like a malignant liquid. A touceira in which caça was hidden also had the same stains and that both could make part of the unfolding as being simple effects of the tempo by devouring or cloth.

- It seems that hoje everything is closer - disse or homem in a low voice. - How do I know... Isn't it different?

A velha firmou mais o olhar. He threw the eyes and turned the poles.

- Não vejo diferença nenhuma.
- Ontem you could not see it was ele tinha or not shot to mushroom ...
- What mushroom? Or is senhor selling some mushroom?
- That pontinho ali no arco… A velha sighed.
- Mas esse não é um buraco de traça? Olha aí, apparently he is appearing, these traças from the end of tudo - he lamented him, disguising a sketch. She was very rude, she ate her slippers. He outlined a distracted gesture: - Fique aí à vontade, vou fazer meu chá.

Or homem deixou cair or cigar. She amassou-o devagarinho na sola do sapato. He opened the jaws with a painful contraction. He knew that forest, that hunter, that he knew - he knew all that bem, but that bem! He quase felt nostrils or perfume two eucalyptus trees, quase felt biting-him to pele or cold at dawn, ah, that dawn! When? Percorrera that same path will aspire that same vapor that lowers dense green sky... Ou raised do chão? The hunter with the perky beard seemed to be wickedly smirked. Had this been a hunter? Ou or companheiro la adiante, or homem you face peeking through the trees? A personagem de tapeçaria. More which? She found Touceira where she was hidden. Só folhas, só silence and folhas filled in the shade. But, behind the folhas, through the pressentia spots or arcing vult of the caça. He feels sorry for her to be panicky, waiting for an opportunity to continue on the run. Tão close to death! Or more slight movement than that, the mushroom... A velha not to distinguish, no power to perceive, reduced as it was to a rotten pontinho, more pale than a grain of poop in suspension no bow.

Flushing or sweating you give more, or homem recuou some steps. Vinha-lhe agora a certain peace, now that he knew that it was a good part of the caçada. But that was a peace in life, impregnated by two same traiçoeiros da folhagem clots. He closed the olhos. Have you been a painter or a painter? Quase all the old tapeçarias were reproduções de quadros, pois não eram? He would paint the original picture and by isso he could reproduce, dated olhos, all at dinner with little minutiae: or outline das trees, or dark céu, or hunter of beard esgrouvinhada, only muscles and nerves aiming for a touceira... caçadas! Why did I have to be inside? "

She opened or spoke against her mouth. Nausea Ah, if he can explain all that familiarity medonha, can he at least... Is he a mere casual spectator, after that olham e passam? Was it not a hypothesis? He could still have seen or unoriginal picture, a caçada não passava de uma ficção. "Before I take advantage of the tape ..." - he murmured, wringing you two fingers without speech.

He turned his head behind him as he puxassem hairs, no, no ficara on the side of the outside, but inside, encravado no cenário! And why did everything seem clearer than on the eve, why are we as cores stronger despite the gloom? Why or fascination that came off the landscape vinha agora so vigorous, rejuvenated? ...

He came out with a low head, so closed he did not found two bags. He seemed offensive to the corner. He felt or humid body, as heavy palpebrae. Do you sleep? But he knew that he could not sleep, since he never felt insomnia following the same marking of his shadow. He lifted a gola do palletó. Was that cold real? Ou a lembrança do frio da tapeçaria? "What a loucura!... E não estou louco", he concluded with a helpless smile. It would be an easy solution. "Mas não estou louco."

He wandered around the streets, entered a cinema, followed by when he remembered himself, he was in the old days, or flattened nose in the window, tempting to glimpse a tapeçaria la not found.

When he chegou at home, he threw himself into bed with bruços and scandalous olhos, melted into the drain. With a tremulous voice da velha seemed to come from within the travesseiro, a voice sem corpo, stuck in slippers of lã: “What mushroom? I am not selling nenhuma mushroom... ”Misturando-se à voice, saw it came or muttered das traças em meio de risadinhas. Or layered cotton wool that intertwines with a green, compact network, appearing to be stained with stains that run along the edge of the tile. He saw us tangled up and wanted to flee, but to tarja or imprisoned us seus arms. I did not fund, I did not fund the fosso, he could distinguish the serpentines lined with green-black numbers. He beat up or queixo. "Sou or caçador?" Over the past year, he found the beard viscosity.

He agreed as his own cry to be extended into the early morning. He enxugou or face molhado of sweat. Ah, that hot and that cold! He enrolls us. Is it fosse or crafts that work on tapeçaria? He could revê-la, so neat, so close that, stretched out to me, would wake up, folhagem. He dated you. He would have destroyed it, it was not true that, on top of that, he would give him a rag that would have some more coisa, tudo not passava of a cloth retainer supported by the poetry. Enough blow it, blow it!

He found Velha na porta da loja. She sorriu ironic:

- Hoje o senhor madrugou.
- Now I must be strangering, but ...
- Já não estranho mais nada, moço. I can enter, I can enter, or senhor conhece or caminho ...

"Conheço o caminho" - he murmured he, still livid between you move. He stopped. He dilated his nostrils. E aquele cheiro de folhagem e terra, from where vinha aquele cheiro? And why is loja getting pregnant, longe? Immense, real only tapeçaria to be admired in a surprisingly way chão hair, teto hair, engindo all with his green stains. She wanted to go back, she grabbed a armário, changed her by resisting the girl and the arms were attached to Coluna. His fingers spread between galhos and resurfaced the trunk of a tree, it was not a coluna, it was a tree! He threw in volta um olhar esgazeado: he would penetrate the tapeçaria, he was inside the forest, the heavy lama, the hair plastered with orvalho. Em redor, you're standing still. Static. No silêncio da dawn, nem or piar de um pássaro, nem or farfalhar de uma folha. He bowed, arched. Was it or caçador? Ou a caça? Não importava, não importava, he barely knew that he had to continue running without stopping through the trees, hunting or being caught. Ou sendo caçado?… He pressed the palms of my hands against the wrinkled face, inxugou not punho da shirt or sweat that lhe slag hair I fish. Vertia sangue or gretado lip.

He opened his mouth. E he lembrou-se. He yelled e mergulhou numa touceira. He ouviu or assobio da seta stranding to folhagem, to dor!

“Não…” - he gemeu, from joelhos. He tentatively grab-se à tapeçaria. E he rolled up, so much more awakening or heart.

Or I tell the questão was published not free Mysteries, from 2000, by Paulistana Lygia Fagundes Telles.

Nele accompanies the affliction of a homem who, a year ago as an old tapeçaria, is tormented by Deliriums and an urgent need to save your past.

A narrative is becoming more dramatic and mixes the protagonist's thoughts with events, suggesting a gloomy and cinematic atmosphere.

Trust the interpretation of Antônio Abujamra to declaim or tell on TV Cultura:

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