terça-feira, 27 de outubro de 2009

10 minutos para qualquer coisa

The World is Dog. Yesterday, coming back toward house, I ran over a black dog. It could not have done this. The poor black dog of yellowish spot in the chest, lost in espasmos and grunts. Comforted I it in its final minutes and prayed the Nam-Myoho-Rengue-Kyo, the only conjunct that I learned in the life. Relembrando the day, I remembered to have seen another dog, teeny, of that they do not give expenditures in food and that certainly they do not emporcalham the house as the great cachorros, estirado in the street, abandoned in its fatídico end. I twisted the neck when I passed for it and still I freed: Pobrezinho, tried to cross the BR and it did not arrive at the other side. Or then, it could be that he was hungry and it looked for to find of where came that one smells delicious of stew. It died. Alone, its small body, there inert. Perhaps today, when to come back toward house, finds it there still, apodrecendo to the relento. Poor dog, why the ambulances had not run, the firemen to help the fainted animal poor person. Ok, died, is alone a dog, leaves to aprodrecer to the relento. They would have to leave me when to die, therefore already I lay and I made in such a way badly how much that dog would make in ten a thousand lives. Exactly thus, it is not given right it of a worthy burial. Ahhh, balela, that burial that nothing, leaves the animal to apodrecer. The animals that in them lick the wounds, who eat our remaining portions of food, that in them abanam the tail when to the house we return. The black dog died. Placed I it in the behind bank of the car and directed until the beach of the Logwood. There, with the hands, April a hollow in the soft sand and I deposited its body. I prayed the Nam-Myoho-Rengue-Kyo one more time and I was even so. The radio of the car touched a music old, the wind of the sea blew on the bridge. I entered in the BR and I passed for the viaduct. Pobrezinho still was there. Alone. I slept an assassin. The World is dog.

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