I just finished reading "A Mercy", by Toni Morrison. I loved the book, the poetry of Florens, the hope in Sorrow's wanderings, the hard love of Lina. In a society of slaves, everybody is a slave because enslaved by owning and being owned. True freedom comes from within and it is what makes us human.
Of course, I could not resist the a minha mãe of the first pages. My language there, so ripe to be harvested, at the cusp of my fingers. Irresistable! Toni Morrison is a Nobel-prize winner of course. Nothing strange about that. She writes like pulsating rivers, her words are alive inside your heart before you know it. You don't breeth, you just follow.
I still remember her powerful, luminous photo that I saw at the American portrait gallery in Washington D.C. in October 2007. The small room, the emptiness of people. Just me and my words. She rised beautiful like an ox made of light, and love, and wisdom. Her braids were coated in white sugar, you could almost smell her hair. I could have looked at her photo forever. Am still carrying that photo around with me. Can you hear me? O teu leitor.
