



Careless Whisper
"Something told me this would be our last dance…my last dance with her."
Synopsis
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View profileWattpad Spirit Inkspired Ao3 monachopsis: o sutil, mas persistente sentimento de estar fora de lugar. Depressiva sociofóbica sempre vo...
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Story Statistics
Technical Details & Updates
First Published
24 de novembro de 2012
Last Updated
24 de novembro de 2012
Editorial Status
Completed
Language
Português (Brasil)
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Charlie has always defined herself as a very independent young woman and capable of handling anything that comes her way. Perhaps her therapist would disagree with that, she and society at large. After all, there was a line between being a perfectionist and being crazy, maybe too thin a line, not that Charlie would agree with that. But she still did very well in therapy, even with occasional bouts of anxiety, disturbing self-harm, and compulsive organizing. That is, until a boy with serious memory problems - and disorganization, emphasis on that word - appears in the middle of his room in his underwear, in the middle of the night on Saturday. After all, Charlie both loved and hated fate. But he always knew how to make things work.
Was it possible for someone to commit suicide for no apparent reason? For Liam it was. But that didn't mean he could do it the way he wanted...
In a small community dominated by a powerful farmer, a man who has always rejected violence sees his life destroyed by a massacre. Faced with loss and injustice, he embarks on a journey of revenge that will transform not only his destiny, but also that of an entire community.
Introdução: Este livro é como se uma garota escrevesse várias cartas para alguém, mas quase nunca as entregasse para está pessoa. Ao longo das cartas ela vai demonstrando como se sente em relação ao que está acontecendo.
Ele se lembra de tudo. Da mãe, dos dias com Clara, das coisas que disse e das que deixou passar. Mas lembrar já não parece suficiente. Entre objetos guardados e uma carta inesperada, ele procura algo que ainda seja capaz de fazer diferença.
Corações em busca de harmonia fomentam dentro de si uma perpétua dissonância. Ela faz tinta com a terra seca do quintal; ele dá nome a tudo o que se bebe e jura que água e vinho, juntos, são uma mistura intragável. Anos depois da tarde em que a chuva não veio, a mesma tempestade alcança os dois em lugares diferentes. Talvez seja tarde para voltar. Talvez nunca tenha sido sobre vinho.






