Franciorlis Freitas Viana

The boy passes behind the grandfather’s rocking chair, but the grandfather realizes and calling him wants to know where the grandson intends to go looking like a parrot. The grandson explains that colorful clothing is in fashion. The elderly do not understand how a lilac shirt, white sneakers with green laces and pink soles can please young people today. Not to mention the tight jeans “it must hurt the bag!” thinks the grandfather. When he starts saying the phrase “in my time …” the grandson interrupts the old man.

  • Come on grandpa, cut that old man’s talk, damn it! Your little grandson is going to break into some shells tonight …
    The mother from the bedroom, at the sewing machine, hears the young man and shouts: – Is that any way to talk to your grandfather? Respect your elders, if I don’t go there and give you a good smack on the ass!
    In the living room, grandson and grandfather laugh at the seamstress’s irritation. They are morbid accomplices. The elderly person feels his soul pulsing in the untamed vein of the young man’s twenty years. He’s tired of giving his grandson a few bucks to buy condoms or pay a motel to take the piriguetes. Deep down, deep down there is a philosophy in him (the ones that due to the lack of refinement, are not in the university volumes) that states “when he eats them, it is as if I eat them too”. This rudimentary male feeling is sacred.
    The grandfather wants to know where the celebration will take place. The grandson corrects it, clarifying that today it is called “Rave”. He replies that it will be at Villa Nueva’s headquarters; well-known dance house in the municipality. The only remnant of the elderly’s auroral days. Now redesigned and adapted to the new times. The mention of thirst frightens the elder. The grandson notices and asks “What’s going on?” The grandfather clears his throat, stops swinging. Compenetrated he leans his chest forward, looks at his grandson and says:
  • Vila Nueva? It was there that one day I saw the jurupari.
  • Jurupari? What’s that old? Is it to eat? – and the young man burst out laughing.
  • Jurupari is the name I took from Guarani to refer to the demon.
  • OK! What to say that you want me to believe that the devil – the grandson of pure disdain, insisted on extending the vowel “o” in the pronunciation – appeared to you, at Villa Nueva ?!
  • When I was your age. At a thematic ball, sponsored by the late Mayor Antero Dias (God help him in a good place!). Villa Nueva was decorated with riverside features. If my memory serves me correctly, the theme was precisely about the myths and legends of the Amazon. The mayor chose this theme, not because he cared about northern folklore, but because his daughter Eliane, who was a trained teacher, guaranteed that it would give a cultured look to the city official … The young man realized he was about to hear yet another of those grandfather’s crazy stories. Admirable from six to ten, interesting from eleven to fourteen, tolerable from fifteen to sixteen, boring from seventeen to the present age. It is not that the stories are necessarily long-winded. It is that adults in their adulthood always seek verisimilitude in the stories that are told to them. When not
    they find, reject words for fallacies and despise them. Good will be the day when it is revealed that something has been sought in an inverted search. One should look at life and in not finding any verisimilitude with fiction, it should scorn reality for not having risen to the level of novels, fables and chronicles. The grandson, who before being stopped by his grandfather intended to wait for his friends in the courtyard of the house, looked at his watch and thought “I think the crowd shouldn’t be long. The grandfather is going to start his fudge, I’m going to pretend I’m enjoying it, soon my friends arrive, I cut the conversation and set off! ” a properly considered plan, he returned to the attention of the elderly who continued his speech.
    -He was dressed with extreme elegance-the grandfather stopped for a while, pulled in his memory and a tuft made with the best mutamba oil from the bar continued – and laughed. His grandfather was a good waltz! The shoots fought for me to pull them into a contradiction. That night, however, he was tired. I danced with sisters Sara and Selma (the frantic sisters, as they were known), then I went to sit in a corner, lonely. The couples of lovers who danced in front of me were blind to my sight. There was a song by the tender Wanderléa on the speaker. Ah – the old man exulted – it was the height of the Young Guard! If my memory serves me correctly, I was just thinking about how Roberto Carlos was lucky to live with that woman, who at the time was very hot “Daddy, look at the manners!
  • the daughter screamed from the bedroom ”when a beautiful girl appeared interrupting the chusma of dancers. Never in those seventy years of life have I met a girl as beautiful as that. She was just stunning. How did all that abundance of meat fit into that little red dress? She had blonde locks. Not an oxygenated blonde. A pure blond, almost golden.

The length hit the buttocks. Nails painted in black enamel. Fleshy mouth. White teeth. Breasts that dropped to the eyes. Thighs that left any woman-fruit in the slipper. The most impressive thing, however, is that it came towards me. Yes in the direction of your grandfather. She held out her hands to me, inviting me to the salon. Astonished that I was not even aware of the fact that it was unusual for a woman to drag a man to dance. Let us amend thirteen songs in a row. When I looked at the woman, I looked like an angel. When I touched my body to hers, I stiffened up to the grelinha do c … “Daddy! – the daughter screamed again in reprimand ”At this rate we took until five in the morning. When I realized then that I hadn’t spoken a word with the stranger so far. I decided to take a chance:

  • What is your name? – The woman looked at me. I saw your red retinas stronger than your dress; like wine in a crystal glass. She broke into an insinuating smile. She laughed out of the corner of her mouth. She answered:
  • My name is Luiza.

At that instant the night really started to recede on the horizon. I noticed that after telling me the name, she looked out over the sky and made an expression of concern. She detached herself from my hands and without looking at me one last time, she turned and moved into the crowd, to careers. She’s gone. I spent minutes waiting for her to return; as she realized that she was not, I went looking for her in every corner of Villa Nueva, without, however, finding her. I asked my friends if they had seen her, but they replied that they had not seen anyone with me that night. That I’ve been alone the whole time. Sure he wasn’t crazy. I kept looking for the woman, from
which she knew only the first name: Luiza. – who had left without even leaving me, similar to that famous fairy tale, the glass slipper as a clue. A first name and nothing more. How many Luizas should there be in the world?
After rotating the entire seat, the obvious place came to mind where it should be: the “logical, stupid! She felt like urinating, she couldn’t handle it and so she ran. Although it’s been a long time … Was it number two? ” I went quickly to the side where the bathroom was. It was closed. Lucky that the door was wooden. I knocked repeatedly. I called: – Luiza! Luiza! Nobody answered. I was worried, and as the security guards at Villa Nueva were too busy to help me “who knows, Luiza didn’t feel sick and is passed out in there” I decided to break down the door. With a kick I did it. It was then that I saw Luiza for an instant, no more than an instant. She had her back to me. Suddenly her blond hair started to turn into a long tail. Horns appeared on her head. Arms, legs and neck were covered with fur. The woman looked like a goat. The air was filled with an unbearable sulfur odor. She (he) turned to me looking horrible. Googly eyes. She blew smoke out of her nostril. She carved like a horse. I was terrified. I swear I pissed myself all over! I began to cry out for the blood of Our Lord. Frozen with fear, I looked into the creature’s eyes. He (she) noticed me. She shrieked in agony, jumped up and evaporated into the air. Only after that did I manage to move from the place. The animal I saw was the cramulhão in person.
After finishing the report, the grandson was startled, but not to give his arm to twist he joked: – Cramulhão, is it? – and burst out laughing – then, besides the Young Guard, is it possible that the devil is also arrived in a technomelody? And he laughed even louder under the warning of his grandfather who told him to be cautious about the matter. Out there
a car honked. The young man’s friends had arrived. The grandson gave a kiss to his mother (who begged him to return early) and another to his grandfather. To this the young man said: – don’t worry grandpa, if the devil / cramulhão / demon / jurupari appears to me today, I will also trace …
At the party, late at night, the young man, after exaggerating his drink, feeling nauseated, left his partner dancing with a friend and went to sit in a corner. Five minutes later, a hand with black enameled nails invited him to dance. Seeing everything shaky, he discerned slightly a red tint in the dress of the person who dragged him into the hall. The music of the Israeli DJ Astrix, Closer to Heaven, was heard on the stereo. At a certain point the young man, when curling his fingers in the girl’s locks, realized that they were blond. He decided to ask: – Cat, what is your name again? It was then that she smirked. She laughed out of the corner of her mouth. He replied: -My name is Luiza.

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CONSENOR – A Poetic Utopia


CONSENOR – A Poetic Utopia


THEIR (Erotic fiction of their sexual memories)


FROM THEM (Erotic fiction of sexual memories from them)




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