Wagner Schwartz X Luiza Rosa = unavoidable.

Around “La Bête” (The Beast), by Wagner Schwartz.

It was right in my face and yet I couldn’t see it.

I tend to forget the unbearable.

She didn’t know she was being cruel.

[Cruel: a predicate the beast, pretending to be a thing, subtly displays as if saying “you can’t see me, but I see you”*.]

“With care!”, cried out plastic artist Roberto Freitas.

A woman was on stage twisting a leg of the live naked beast in a way that could hurt its knee articulation.

So I was told.

I hadn’t really seen it.

I couldn’t see it.

I remember feeling very hungry all of a sudden, a discomfort for being away from home for such a long time.

I was licked by this thought as the morning breeze could very well have licked Clarissa Dalloway’s face, in her porch at home with the door wide open: unavoidable.

She didn’t know she was being cruel.

* a clear reference to the song “O gosto do azedo” (The taste of bitter), by Rita Lee.

Translation Portuguese-English by Chris Ritchie.