- Nasci nesta casa.
De volta à Rua de Santa Maria, L. percorre a calçada, a lembrar a infância, as pessoas, os cheiros...
Vai devagar, como quem recolhe o passado e o guarda na memória. Parou nesta janela. Conta que a mãe já não era nova quando ela nasceu e que, para não ficar sozinha em casa, veio dar à luz para casa da comadre.
- esta era a casa da minha madrinha.
Fala ao ritmo da recordação. Tem os olhos parados num tempo em que a vida se fazia na rua e as janelas emolduravam as mulheres.
- O meu padrinho tinha uma telefonia. No tempo da guerra, abriam esta janela e ouvíamos as notícias. Era o Fernando Pessa. Ficávamos ali à volta. em silêncio. O mundo estava ali. Daquela janela (ou)via-se o mundo.
THE WORLD AT THE WINDOW
- I was born in this house.
Back at Rua de Santa Maria, L. walked along the pebble paved street and remembered her childhood, people, friends, family, flavours and fragances….
She walked slowly as if trying to absorb all the details brought back from past memories. Suddenly, she stopped at this window. And she explained that she was born at that house. Her mother was not young anymore when she gave birth to this baby girl and so extra care was need. This is why she went to her friend’s house to deliver.
- This was my godmother’s house.
The rhythm is as slow as her remembrances. Her blue eyes stared back at a time when life was lived outside, in the front street and when windows framed the daily life of women.
- My godfather had a radio set. During war time, this door was opened all day long and we could listen to the news. Fernando Pessa was the speaker. We used to sit on the floor and listened in silence. The whole world was there, just there, so close to us. You see, we could listen to the voice of the world from this window….