Eu tive os meus mortis e deixei-os ir
Rilke‘Requiem’ by Uma Amiga
You were born in the cyclone of 1941
Maria Alzira Seixo “Autobiography”
in JL 24 October – 6 November 2007
The confusion in which Maria Alzira surrounded us, whether we were colleagues or friends, was enough to arouse and encourage us at the same time. Discover our certainties and preconceived ideas, stimulate our critical capacity, even if we need to pass comparison. The cyclone of 1941 was not limited to destroying seeds.
We have a summer vacation together to enjoy. His whole body has been here for a few years and is voraciously diminishing, but the only thing missing from death is the final shock, which we will not receive from the front, like the sun.
In the full sun Odeceixe went up and for the late vinh ter, as I know, to our terrace and did her readings, her discoveries, her certainties. Sometimes I hope to confront so many certainties, but it has a clear and always close argument that is based on knowledge and eloquence.
He also doesn’t love literature, a thing you don’t, if that’s accurate enough for us. Out of the whole structuralist apparatus he emerges, like his master Barthes, or the “textual void”, we enjoy leisurely reading and sandblasting and slowly appropriating what we are. Essays enormously late reading in the sun, right at sea, without internet and without phones, entregues to the flute of Hamelin of our favorite writers, are inexplicable at equally fast paces without the first. Ler a War and Peace oh and Researchwithout raising the eyes of Tolstoy and Proust até ao por do Sol.
Maria Alzira was not a mechanical master of structuralism, she was an excellent and highly cultivated analyst of literature, especially romance, but rather immersed herself in a distinct taste for poetry, which is also cultivable. These surgical poems will be published in small editions, which are interesting today.
Contrary to what Elizabeth Bishop says in her poem, the art of losing is not easy to learn. At this stage of our lives, we lose our generational and age companions a little more quickly, who finally form our masters, even if later we tire of their lessons because we grow up and so do we.
To lose people is to lose our world, our frame of reference, our memory and our ambition. The world will darken from our front and new things that will also emerge from fear. Now, according to Yeats’s poem, this monster is being born in Belém. We don’t know. You can be Attila or Jesus Christ.
But we are not responsible for the world we create or want to encounter. Maria Alzira Seixo always summer on the side of criadores.
Graduate and writer
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