quinta-feira, 11 de agosto de 2016


everyday i wake up for a new etymology. i don't know which one it will be. maybe skylight, the light of the sky or nausea, which comes from nau, or boat in greek. as much as i look for it, it finds me and, when it calls me, i answer its call. it's me the one who is being found and i find, in my origins, roots coming from the arab and the japanese. i leaf through dictionaries, comparing pasts and divining the derivations, concluding that etymology is, as much as a science, is also a story, a case and a convenient foreseeing of memory. for instance, philologists suppose that the word tragedy comes from tragos, or goat, but they're not sure about it. i think to myself: i want it to be the goat, because this way the scapegoat would be the utmost tragic fact. and, as i want it to be so, so it will be. i lie the certainty of the goat. i betray the readers and i wait, peacefully, that they forgive me or get mad at me. may you figure us out.

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