terça-feira, 9 de julho de 2013


Windmills and Butterflies


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
      Fauna in la Mancha, Vladimir Kush


  It was a peaceful world, all green and sweet. No wars, no… nothing. Nothing happened there. Everything was monotonous, day and night. All of there would be extremely boring, if it weren’t for the giant butterflies that lived beyond the city.
     They appeared once, every 7 years, when they flew to breed by the woods, and every single person would stop what they were doing just to see them, just to see those beautiful giant wings. Then they would go back to their prairie and wait another 7 years.
     One year, when they were flying to the woods, a young boy, only ten years old, named William, couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. All those butterflies, so beautiful, so big. Then he decided…
     “I’m going to catch them.” he said to his parents, 6 years later.
     From that day on, when he saw them, or had at least a memory of that, he wanted to do it. He knew it wasn’t right, but he wanted to catch one, only one.
     He spent some months getting ready for his journey. He gathered some food, a big jacket, in case it got cold, and a big, strong rope. Then he set off.
     William wanted to see where they lived. He wanted to see how that big prairie really looked like. So he left, and hoped that when he got there the butterflies weren’t getting ready to fly away.
     He just walked straight ahead for days, stopping at night to rest and get some sleep. One morning, when he woke up, he saw a boy around his age sleeping under a tree across from his. He soon woke up too, got up and walked up to William, moving his hand towards him.
     “Good morning”, he said with a cheerful grin, “My name’s Theodore, but everyone calls me Teddy.”
     “I’m William”, he said shaking his hand, “but you can call me Billy.”
     They both stood there, talking about what had brought them there, and surprisingly found they were there for the same reason. Then they walked together and soon became friends.
     They walked and walked, and finally, after one month or so, they got there.
     They felt so small there. Everything was so beautiful, so big, so full of… windmills?
That was… strange. Everywhere… there were windmills, giant windmills everywhere.
     They got closer to one and then saw it. The butterflies stood in the windmills. They both couldn’t believe what they were seeing, and neither of them had the courage to do what they wanted to do in the first place, catch one of those giants. They just wanted to stay there forever.


de Vera Cabo, 11º J

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

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