About the text 1: O nome do texto é em português, mas o texto é em inglês. The title means “my little thing”. A good companion for this text is the song “Your Song” by Elton John, found in this month’s Nightporter playlist at the bottom of the post. Credits for the art: Windmill from Child Library Reader Primer illustrated by L. Kate Deal 1923.

There is a dark spot casting its light to upend you and I want to be the lighthouse stoned.
There is a glowing moon in the sky that misspends you and I want to be the blackest tent.
You have a thousand arms to use, none of them hugs you;
You see a shadow in the room inside and pray to littlest light then calm is made to prehend you.
You have a voice dozing sing, an eye too knotted to cling,
The world turns beautiful to all but one.
You’re hiding from an over war, like a star that shined tomorrow.
And you’re lovely, so truly lovely.
I wish that whenever you’d feel sad because the world seem too small, the spaces between our words would be enough.
I wish that if your problems ever stood too tall, I could say a magic word to leave you by a shortcut.
I wish there was a shortcut to every pain you feel, and that I could show it to you, so I could feel you smiling weightless for once.
I wish they found the cure for pain, I wish I could see your heart in the breeze outside.
Sometimes, I’m sure you don’t know yourself.
You talk of you like you are not the beautiful thing I see.
You talk of what ails you like it’s a fly above your soup.
I could listen to you talk for hours on end. It makes no sense to me why that wouldn’t be the case.
I have never met someone as interesting. Even if words fail me, I’d rather watch your mind come up with a phrase to define your evening than watching any movie, for your words always seem to carry more meaning than pictures.
But sometimes it feels a foreign concept to you.
Do you think you don’t deserve love like this? Do you not want this love from me?
To be the sea to your thirst would be the life of evenings most wanted, and to be a shadow in your thought would be my better memory.
But to aid you in a dormant pain,
To watch you grow old with me,
To help you remember your name,
To calm the mind that thinks,
To carry you in a song
And to play the song to yours and sing,
I would sleep without a bother,
I would sleep above the kings.

Because it is about you, what’s worth to listen
It is about you, my little thing.

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About the text 2: Call it mommy issues, but when I’m talking to someone I dear, I tend to reuse a lot of stuff my mom used to say to me. I think her kind of love was very sweet, so I end up loving the same. When I see a dog or a baby, for example, I say something like “No, but I’m just such a little fat thingy, I’m so small…” Me and my siblings never understood why she started her cuddling sessions with babies and dogs with a “No, but”, but we thought it was funny. Without realizing, we copied it.

With this girl, I seem to always reuse a lot of things. I call her “galo de campina”, as my mom would call me, because of my angry temper as a child. But today and yesterday, I noticed that I called her a “little thing” when she was kind of being a pain (in a fun way, of course). My mom used to call me that; it’s as if you can’t define what the person is because they’re making you so distressed that you’re not thinking straight, so you call them a “little thing”, like a “little brat”.

I realized two things. One is that I must dear her a lot; no one else receives so many of those words for them to keep.

The other thing is that… Sometimes, I’m afraid I upset her because of how much I worry about her. I don’t think she can’t take care of herself or that she needs a caretaker; I just feel a bit powerless when faced with what ails her. I’m giving her space and time, and that’s all I can do. But I wish I could give more. I wish I could give her some of the peace I feel when I’m talking to her. I wish I could give her the calm that’s on my mind when we’re together. And if I’m not to take her to another place, I wish she learns that she’s a very beautiful little thing. Inside and out. Never doubt it.

Listen to this month’s Nightporter playlist!!!

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