oh katherine my katherine...

Oh Katherine, My Katherine the moon has shone upon me, the face of my beloved.

Hoje a minha "velha" amiga Catarina faz anos.
Tenho saudades da Catarina...
A Catarina foi a última amiga com quem brinquei com Barbies. Juntas muito sonhávamos com os nossos amores platónicos. hehehe
Não vejo a Catarina há muito tempo. Da última vez que falámos (nos anos dela no ano passado!) vivia em Londres.
Nunca me esqueço do seu aniversário... Mais logo vou ligar-lhe mas agora ficam aqui os Parabéns para a Catarina P..

Os anos da Catarina fizeram-me lembrar da mais bonita Catarina do cinema.
Katharine Clifton - English Patient...
Gosto tanto do filme... O Ralph Fiennes e a Kristin Scott Thomas também ajudam...
Mas é das histórias de amor mais bonitas e ao mesmo tempo mais horríveis que me lembro... Enfim... eu tinha frases e frases do filme na minha cabeça. Fui agora recordar algumas e estou a ouvir a banda sonora. Thank you imdb... and thank you my dear white ipod...

Almásy: New lovers are nervous and tender, but smash everything. For the heart is an organ of fire.
___

Almásy: I just wanted you to know: I'm not missing you yet.
Katharine Clifton: You will.
___
Almásy: Every night I cut out my heart. But in the morning it was full again.
___
Almásy: When were you most happy?
Katharine Clifton: Now.
Almásy: When were you least happy?
Katharine Clifton: Now.

Esta lembra-me sempre de um questionário da Catarina! Daqueles que as meninas faziam na preparatória num caderno que passavam umas às outras. Agora já não deve haver nada disto. Fazem as perguntas todas no Hi5 :op.
Duas das perguntas eram então: "Qual o melhor sentimento do mundo? Qual o pior sentimento do mundo? - Lembro-me de ter respondido "Amor" em ambas. - hehehe eu já era muito dramática para 12 aninhos hein!??

Katharine Clifton: I'm impressed you can sew.
Almásy: Good.
Katharine Clifton:You sew very badly.
Almásy: Well, you don't sew at all.
Katharine Clifton:A woman should never learn to sew, and if she can she shouldn't admit to it.
____
Katharine Clifton: This - what is this?
Almásy: It's a folk song.
Katharine Clifton: Arabic.
Almásy: No, no. It's Hungarian. My daijka sang it to me when I was a child growing up in Budapest.
Katharine Clifton: It's beautiful. What's it about?
Almásy: Szerelam means love. And the story, well, there's this Hungarian count. He's a wanderer. He's a fool. And for years he's on some kind of a quest for... who knows what. And then one day, he falls under the spell of a mysterious English woman. A harpy, who beats him, and hits him, he becomes her slave, and he sews her clothes, and worships...
[Katharine starts hitting him]
Almásy: Stop it! Stop it! You're always beating me!
Katharine Clifton: Bastard! You bastard, I believed you! You should be my slave.

____
Katharine Clifton: My darling. I'm waiting for you. How long is the day in the dark? Or a week? The fire is gone, and I'm horribly cold. I really should drag myself outside but then there'd be the sun. I'm afraid I waste the light on the paintings, not writing these words. We die. We die rich with lovers and tribes, tastes we have swallowed, bodies we've entered and swum up like rivers. Fears we've hidden in - like this wretched cave. I want all this marked on my body. Where the real countries are. Not boundaries drawn on mapswith the names of powerful men. I know you'll come carry me out to the Palace of Winds. That's what I've wanted: to walk in such a place with you. With friends, on an earth without maps. The lamp has gone out and I'm writing in the darkness...