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Heads up! Suicide triggers. Anyone who is diagnosed with depression or has suicidal thoughts is not advised by me to read this story. Seek help. Everything will get better, believe the words of this anonymous.
Story Statistics
Technical Details & Updates
First Published
27 de agosto de 2020
Last Updated
27 de agosto de 2020
Editorial Status
Completed
Language
Português (Brasil)
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In the Middle Ages, marriages often took place from the age of 12 for girls and 14 for boys. It was the age at which they were able to procreate. At this time, a simple smile indicated consent. Often when a member of the royal nobility could not be present at their own wedding, a representative would be sent, and the wedding would proceed normally. Obstinacy on the part of the bride was strongly forbidden, the recommendations were that they be as demure as possible. Of course, from time to time people appeared who refused to follow this pattern.
In Santa Amélia, the last trip of line 86 crosses the border between the known world and the existences that, for some reason, were left on its margins. For seventeen years, Marta Amaral has driven this route, coexisting with passengers for whom time, death, and reality itself seem to obey particular rules. The Passengers Who Never Got Off explores memory, grief, motherhood, and the desire to recover what life has taken from us. In a universe where abandoned possibilities continue to exist, the story investigates the limits of belonging, the consequences of our choices, and the difficult coexistence between love and loss. Between the absurd, melancholy, and supernatural horror, the narrative finds in the small everyday intimacies some of the most unsettling questions of human existence.
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.
Coletânea de textos/anotações/poesias, sem conexões entre si, sem pretensão de ser algo de fato impressionante. Todos escritos entre 2015 e 2019. Com muitor amor. Na verdade, não. Não contém muito amor aqui, só magoas de forma predominante.
Eu sinto da liberdade que não me têm sempre que olho para ele. Ele é meu último pedaço de liberdade, nele eu posso me encontrar. Ele tem a versão mais nua da minha alma na palma de suas mãos.
O relacionamento já acabou, mas continua sendo ensaiado todos os dias. Um teatro póstumo, sustentado por gestos automáticos e um repertório infindável de pequenas violências.





