Da Chuva na Tarde

Sometimes I wonder about my life.  I lead
a small life.  Well, not small, but
circumscribed.  And sometimes I wonder,
do I do it because I like it, or because
I haven't been brave?  So much of what I
see reminds me of something I read in a
book, when shouldn't it be the other way
around?

I don't really want an answer.  I just
want to send this cosmic question out
into the void.
So goodnight, dear void.

(You´ve Got Mail, 1998).

E neste meio de fim de tarde, o cheiro de chuva que sopra pela janela ,
me faz lembrar de outros instantes.