Precious things
Precious things.
In peaceful Alto-Lagoa
The smell of good coffee
and the pleasant noise of nature.
Natasha,
Enormous, slender
Greets us warmly
Her joy is noticeable.
In the room
Our eyes wander among the sculptures
The smallest, in value, of them all
A suspiciously-colored rabbit with a hard gaze,
on top of the fridge.
Windows, Little Windows, Big Windows
A painting on canvas is a window,
There’s about a hundred
and forty-five windows in this house,
One for every world
Natasha chews on and entire loaf of bread
She revels in it, and the crumbs fall on her hairy chest
Flour, water, and Natasha’s brightness
Impregnate the room
Paper, porcelain, plastic, text, gold sheet
Glass, acrylic, metal and cloth
Impregnate the room and the entire house
Wall, floor and ceiling
In the kitchen, in the bathrooms and in the bedrooms
Natasha licks our fingers
And rubs against our legs
I think she wants something
I think she wants to go for a walk
Enraptured by the totality of the ensemble
By this ordered confusion of precious
little pieces of the universe
This small galaxy, diverse,
and in constant expansion.
What joy to have physical contact
with these little things!
We say goodbye from afar,
with a kiss and a wave
She delicately walks towards us
She comes swaying amongst the relics
Raises her long snout
And opens a huge smile.