domingo, 12 de junho de 2022

Divulgamos - A button, a story, a piece of art - Workshop de escrita criativa -1ª semana cultural do AEAA


 A button, a story, a piece of art

No âmbito da 1ª semana cultural do Agrupamento de  Escolas Anselmo de Andrade, decorreu no passado dia 7 de março, na escola sede,  um workshop de escrita criativa, sob a orientação da Prof. Rita Neves, intitulado A button, a story, a piece of art

Os alunos participantes foram desafiados a criar uma estória a partir de um botão, transformando de seguida o texto em obra de arte. 

Destacaram-se os trabalhos dos alunos André Gonçalo, Júlia Amorim e Sarah Baltazar que divulgamos agora à comunidade escolar, cujos textos se publicam abaixo.

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Ideal 

 

London was overall not only beautiful, but also a unique city around 1877. As you walked down the streets, you could see Victorian architecture. It was elegant, complex even, it made us wonder about the author behind such a masterpiece. But at the end of the day, my favourite spot belonged to a petit café just down the street. Just made for me, the warm cosy atmosphere, the scent of ground coffee and, most importantly, the enormous window which I insisted on sitting by every day, an action that stood somewhere between a ritual and a habit, and today was no different.

When I entered the café, I could hear the usual golden bell announcing the arrival of a customer. I walked to the balcony, ordered my usual tea and took my spot on the table by my beloved window. You see, the beauty of sitting in such a place is that you get to contemplate dozens of people passing by, and get to imagine 'who’s that person?', 'are they maybe someone who owns a fluffy cat or do they prefer dogs?' or 'have they heard already of the newest invention of Thomas Edison, the phonograph?' The possibilities are as endless as the human imagination, and today I had the pleasure of a remarkable visitor…


A single woman walked down the streets, and if I had to pick a word, I'd say she’s simply fascinating, to say the least. She was dressed in a large coat that covered most of her figure reaching knee-high, whose golden detailed buttons intrigued the viewer like a temptation. She had worn-out marron boots, and, for Christ's sake, that woman was wearing pants! The signature of either a crazy or courageous mind willing to defy the stereotypes. She charmed me like a spell, walking as she owned the world and if she had told me so, I would’ve believed. If I had to guess, I’d say she’s a suffragist, and like any suffragist, she carried the definition of independent.

The woman floated on the streets, confident enough to make anyone feel overwhelmed by her mere presence. Her chin was high enough for her to speak her mind but low enough so she doesn't seem presumptuous. In my head, she spoke her mind whenever she wanted and was listened to every time. She didn’t look like a dog or cat person, instead, she owned an owl that would occasionally bring her books, books about everything you can think of, from politics to an oddly specific fungus. She looked astonishing in the best way possible, and she was someone to admire…

“Ahem”

I looked up and saw a waiter holding a steaming teacup

'Your tea, Ma’am'

'Yes, thank you, mister'

And she was gone, like a whisper, she vanished in thin air being nothing now but an Ideal*.

  

   *Ideal: existing only in the imagination; desirable or perfect but not likely to become a reality.

                                                                              Sarah Baltazar  (10A)

 

…………

 

In Pieces

 
 

It was 2019. At Kyiv’s Shevchenko Square, you could see a red point in the middle of the crowd. Not any red point, that was an ecstatic red point. The red point was living her dream. The red point was Liz.

Liz was spending some days in Kyiv before going back home from her time studying in Lviv. On that windy spring day, she was wearing her favourite coat. It was red, the colour she loved the most, and it had big soft buttons.

Liz didn’t want to leave Ukraine without visiting the Hero City Kyiv, so she arranged to stay there a few days before her flight home. She was sitting at a cafe, eating deruny and drinking kalyna tea, while reflecting on her past weeks in that amazing country. Liz had dreamed of going there for years, and she felt so lucky she had had the opportunity to study in Lviv, a city so beautiful that would be engraved in her memory forever.

She met wonderful people, created great memories, lived her dream…

Liz wasn’t ready to leave yet, but she had to.

It was 2022, the red point wasn’t happy, it was actually sad. The red point was worried and couldn’t believe her eyes. They were invading Ukraine once again.

Liz saw the places where she was once happy destroyed, and that left her in pieces. She read her friend’s messages and felt so sad that she couldn’t do anything to stop the aggression. The worst feeling of all was the feeling that they were destroying her dream, but she knew it wasn’t true and that she would always carry beautiful Ukraine with her, no matter where she went.

                                                                                      Júlia Amorim  (10ºA)

 …………

 

Child’s Play

 


I recognize my sins

I had been consumed then

If I’m swallowed by Hell

Heaven awaits them                                   

 

1987, America, Utah

  He finally had finished cleaning up the restaurant, everything shone eerily in the dark and William, the owner of this place, was ready to leave.

  He breathed in the cold air of the night, felt bliss, despite any regretful act he could’ve performed and entered his car to head home.

  William was greeted by his wife, Amanda, but was so tired he just nodded to her and went to bed without taking his purple uniform off.

  As dawn came closer, the wretched alarm went off. He hated that thing. Since he fell asleep wearing his uniform, William just drank some coffee Amanda made him and left to work.

  It was a small restaurant, but they still had lots of clients, mainly families with children, which the owner in purple hated because they were making so much noise. The hatred had grown so much that William started to despise children, developing psychopathic thoughts around them. Today was worse. It was a birthday party for some kid, and it brought so much noise with it. William had to leave but couldn’t as there was a shortage of staff. The screams and yelling were becoming unbearable and driving him insane.

  A thought crossed his mind; maybe, just maybe, if he could get rid of one or two, it would put some ease on his mind.

  The most distant child saw as a man in a purple suit approached her. It was easy to persuade a kid to follow him with some candy. Some went with him but never came back. The party was big and there was only one supervisor. No one noticed.

  The next day, chaos ensued, and only one thing was certain: no child would ever set foot in that restaurant again.

André Gonçalo (10ºB)

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