She tried to open the bottle, but the top slipped through her fingers without moving.
He took the bottle from her hand and opened it using only his thumb and index finger. Alice thought there was nothing special in the gesture, that she could have done it herself, like anyone else, if only her hands hadn't been so sweaty. And yet she found it strangely fascinating, like a small heroic feat performed specially for her.
O beijo durou, minutos inteiros, tempo suficiente para que a realidade encontrasse uma fresta entre as suas bocas aderentes e se enfiasse por aí adentro, obrigando ambos a analisar o que estavam a fazer.
Separaram-se. Mattia sorriu apressadamente, automaticamente, e Alice levou um dedo aos lábios húmidos, quase que a certificar-se se tinha realmente acontecido. Havia uma decisão a tomar e tinha de ser tomada sem falar. Olharam um para o outro, alternadamente, mas já tinham perdido a sincronia e os seus olhos não se encontraram.
Aquela imagem parada fez emergir outras e a mente de Alice juntou-as recriando o movimento, os fragmentos de sons, farrapos de sensações. Sentiu-se invadida por uma nostalgia lancinante, mas agradável.
Se pudesse escolher um momento a partir do qual recomeçar escolheria precisamente esse: ela e Mattia num quarto silencioso, com as suas intimidades que hesitavam tocar-se mas cujos contornos coincidiam exactamente.
Mattia sentiu os cabelos dela a fazerem-lhe cócegas no pescoço. Sentiu o fino intervalo de ar que os separava a encher-se com o seu calor e a premer levemente sobre a sua pele, como algodão. Sentiu o instinto de a puxar a si, mas as mãos ficaram imóveis, como que adormecidas.
Paolo GiordanoPela primeira vez, Mattia envergonhou-se de aos vinte e dois anos de idade ainda não ter carta de condução. Era outra das coisas que havia deixado para trás, outro passo óbvio na vida de um rapaz que ele escolhera não dar, para se manter o mais possível fora da engrenagem da vida. Como comer pipocas no cinema, como sentar-se nas costas de um banco, como não respeitar a hora de entrada em casa imposta pelos pais, como jogar futebol com uma bola de estanho enrolada ou estar de pé, nu, em frente a uma rapariga. Pensou que a partir daquele dia tudo seria diferente. Decidiu que ia tirar a carta de condução o mais depressa possível. Fá-lo-ia por ela, para a levar a passear. Porque tinha medo de o admitir, mas quando estava com ela parecia que valia a pena fazer todas as coisas normais que as pessoas normais fazem.
Paolo GiordanoWith a little effort, she could get up by herself.
Paolo GiordanoMathematicians call them twin primes: pairs of prime numbers that are close to each other, almost neighbors, but between them there is always an even number that prevents them from truly touching. Numbers like 11 and 13, like 17 and 19, 41 and 43. If you have the patience to go on counting, you discover that these pairs gradually become rarer. You encounter increasingly isolated primes, lost in that silent, measured space made only of ciphers, and you develop a distressing presentiment that the pairs encountered up until that point were accidental, that solitude is the true destiny. Then, just when you’re about to surrender, when you no longer have the desire to go on counting, you come across another pair of twins, clutching each other tightly. There is a common conviction among mathematicians that however far you go, there will always be another two, even if no one can say where exactly, until they are discovered.
Mattia thought that he and Alice were like that, twin primes, alone and lost, close but not close enough to really touch each other. He had never told her that. When he imagined confessing these things to her, the thin layer of sweat on his hands evaporated completely and for a good ten minutes he was no longer capable of touching anything.
Tag: paolo-giordano the-solitude-of-prime-numbers
Mattia was right: the days had slipped over her skin like a solvent, one after the other, each removing a very thin layer of pigment from her tattoo, and from both of their memories. The outlines, like the circumstances, were still there, black and well delineated, but the colors had merged together until they faded into a dull, uniform tonality, a neutral absence of meaning.
Paolo GiordanoShe couldn't remember what they had talked about, only that she had looked at her rapt from a place just behind her eyes, a place full of jumbled thoughts that she had kept to herself even then.
Paolo GiordanoEvery time she heard the click of the shutter, followed by that faint rustle, she remembered when she used to catch grasshoppers in the garden of their house in the mountains when she was a little girl, trapping them between her cupped hands. She thought that it was the same with photographs, only now she seized time and fixed it on celluloid, capturing it halfway through its jump toward the next moment.
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