The woman

Hand in the chin, she stops, musing.

Greek beauty, dressed with diligence, tall, thin. Wavy hair, wore in a careless ponytail.
As I walk by in the morning, I see her in the garden, at the entrance of the majestic house. Her looks call my attention. I almost go back to see her once more.

I keep on going my way, though…(I can’t be late!)

Wise, she ponders and meditates.

My memory captures the rosé harmony: skin and clothes. My brain registers the still, unexpected, in luminous winter morning.

The cars go fast by Cosme Velho neighborhood... Impatient, at the red sign, they stop even they dislike it.

Not even this morning frisson bothers her, imperturbable audience that she is.

Finally, I arrive at my English course. During the class, I can’t forget about the sight of that woman. Her classical image had impregnated me. I catch myself wandering who would have made her magnificent outfit...

And the fabric, muslin? Or maybe some sort of satin, for the sensual effect of the draperies, protecting her body from the curious passersby as if she was a vestal...

On my way back, I find her still in the same position. Nothing disturbs her: impassible, she keeps musing, with a lost look in her eyes… (what/whom would she think about???)

I stop, thrilled, one more time, with the sight of that beautiful marble statue, in the garden of Leone’s auction house, waiting for a new owner...

Maria Angélica Monnerat Alves

For me, just one word : Superb!