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.
Li
z 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)
