quarta-feira, 26 de junho de 2013

Solo Violin

A publicação de textos em língua inglesa é uma das atividades da biblioteca, previstas no plano anual de  escola, para divulgação dos nossos jovens autores.

Os textos a seguir reproduzidos decorrem de uma iniciativa levada a cabo por alguns docentes do grupo de Inglês, através da qual os alunos são desafiados a utilizar a sua imaginação, tendo como resultado a elaboração de pequenas histórias/reflexões redigidas em Inglês, obtidas a partir da leitura de imagens (fotografias, pinturas, desenhos).

Inspired by
Wendy McMurdo (1962 − )      Media COLOUR NEGATIVE PRINT

British Council Art Collection

       Do you see the girl in blue with a ponytail, very focused, playing her imaginary violin? Then you are looking at me. I’m Wendy McMurdo, better known as Dee Dee. Now I’m thirty-seven years old but when I took this picture I was eight years old.
      I was living at that time in Germany with my parents. I didn’t have brothers or sisters because after my birth my mom became unable to have any kids, but sincerely I never really missed having a brother or a sister because the room I was inserted in, as you can see in the picture, became my adoptive brother.
      My adoptive brother was huge, had four giant white windows, which allowed the light to get inside of him. His walls were also white.

      You might think that I’m really silly because I used to consider a room as a possible older brother but for me it used to make a lot of sense because an older brother always has the responsibility to take care of you and that was what that room used to do to me.

      My parents were the typical rich couple. My dad, Mr. McMurdo, would work hours and hours just not to have to be with my mom, Mrs. McMurdo, who used to drink a lot and rarely used to be sober.
      For so many years my only friend was my father, who used to come from work and play the violin for me. The sound of that thing made of wood used to make me forget the fact that I lived in a broken home.
      But when I was seven, my dad died because his age didn’t follow his work addiction.
 When he died, I just remember that I didn’t cry because for me there was a way to keep him alive in me.
      At the age of eight, I decided to become a violin expert but I had to work hard and every time I played that violin my father filled that room and it felt like he was hugging me and protecting me. Playing the violin was so important because unless I played it, I would never see, listen, feel and smell my father again.
     I’m probably the only person that can say that my father will never ever die.

de Cláudia Marlene, 11ºL 

Nota: Texto publicado com a autorização de Cláudia Marlene, do 11º L (2012/2013).  Qualquer reprodução sem a sua autorização atenta contra os princípios dos direitos de autor. 

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