But the expectation of the death or a future of perpetual shades (that defeats intensify) calls the memory the past. What could have done so that my brother was not looser? It I did not only leave it a task that also belonged to me? E still… What was made of all this expended energy while still alive and so sofregamente sucked? What is - not of my body or my soul - what is of my shares of an entire life?
(translated from Portuguese by Google)
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From Women on Fire by Irene O'Garden:
JORDY: Did you know you can fill a room with your joy? Did you know this is what people really want? Movement is the first commandment. You owe it to your body to obey it. Dancin' is the hymnal:
Fingers flinging alleluias. Torso folding lamentation. Fierce, dance fierce, then light, like a swimmer skiming water. I might could tell you things more mysterious: How one body tells another it is beautiful. How the grace of flesh, physicality, the power of creation drip like spangles from your moving arm. And how you cannot hold to ecstasy, for ecstasy will crowd you out upon itself. These things I can tell you as certainly as worship, but I cannot tell you them in words.
Did you know it don't matter what happened when you was a child? You cannot hold to grievance for grievance will crowd you out upon itself. It will ice your body up, stop up your sap, truss up yourself like a old turkey. Where is them spangles now?
You got something to say, you stomp your history out across a floor. Pound on Mama Earth. She glad to hear from you. She can take it all. And your own limbs can answer any question put to them.
You wanna blame someone? Blame yourself for forgetting what's going on right now. The beauty of THIS world.
And don't you tell me I don't know what grief is. I dance my drunk Daddy. I dance my dead daughter.
Free ain't somethin' you get when you buy somethin'. It's a psalm you sing yourself.
Remember you can fill a room with your joy. Remember this is what YOU really want.
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