Esfalfado, chegou ao cimo da lomba o autocarroda madrugada, anunciando o burburinho da rua, os pregões, o frenesi do tráfego que estremecia na ossatura das casas, o despertar fatigado das pessoas, que iam renovar a vida com azedume (renovar, não: repetir um quotidiano robotizado), como se a vida fosse o pesado cumprimento de um dever.

-Fernando Namora

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