Mes do pimba, semana nº 1

Porque só quando se está com grandes mocas é que uma pessoa se lembra de fazer cenas destas, eu decidi fazer, durante um mês, traduções de quatro musicas pimbas previamente escolhidas por mim.


A primeira musica vem de um senhor conhecido como o progenitor de Ana Malhoa.
Sras. e Srs. , ESTA SEMANA, NO MOONLESS, APRESENTO-VOS A TRADUÇÃO DO BAILE DE VERÃO DE JOSÉ MALHOA!!!!!!
Vou realizar esta tradução na língua das terras de vossa majestade, com a finalidade internacionalizar os nossos grandes artistas *eye roll and ironic tone* e, de forma a que o mundo saiba o que faz sucesso em portugal!
Enjoy and have fun!

Ainda te lembras amor
como tudo começou
se te esqueceste, eu não
Nosso primeiro beija-beija
foi atrás da igreja
no bailarico de verão
A lua estava a sorrir
a tua boca a pedir
e toda aldeia também
Para nos ver acertar
e para me encorajar
ainda me lembro meu bem

[refrão]

Toda a malta gritou
até o padre ajudou
"Aperta, aperta com ela!"
A banda sempre a tocar
o povo todo a cantar
"Aperta, aperta com ela!"
Nós apertámos os dois
entao aí é que foi
"Aperta, aperta com ela!"
E assim amor pois então
começou nossa paixão
nesse baile de verão

(Translation)

do you still remember my love
how everything started
if you've forgotten
I've not
Our first kissy-kiss
given behind the church
on the little summer ball
The moon was smiling
your mouth was asking me
and the whole village was too
to see us getting it right
And to encourage me
I still remember sweetheart

[chorus]

Everybody shouted
even the vicar helped
"Squeeze, squeeze her hard!"
The band was always playing
And everybody was singing
"Squeeze, squeeze her hard"
We both squeezed eachother
And the whole show went down
"Squeeze, squeeze her hard!"
And then hence my love
our relationship started
On that summer ball


Ps. Há quem tenha achado que fazer um mês do pimba era fofuxo, há quem tenha achado parvo. Para mim é simplesmente divertido, e isso faz com que eu não me rale com a opinião das outras pessoas! De qualquer das maneiras, e quer gostem ou não, deixo-vos com o video desta bela canção! (rolls eyes again):



Ps.2 : olhem para o casalinho que protagoniza este video, lindos os dois não são?!

Boa semana!

*deadmoonqueen*

Queres o meu leviathan, a rosa e outras historias...

Hoje estou aqui para falar de uma das melhores noites da minha vida: Quinta feira passada.

Oras, estava eu a pensar no sossego do meu trabalho "Estou doente e acho que não vou ser capaz de ir a outra festa de anos" quando me lembrei " Diana, tu nem andas com febre, com dois ou três analgesicos ficas fina e sem dores, com pletamente capaz de aguentares", e foi o que fiz. Claro que a minha consciência ficou sempre naquela "Diana, demasiados comprimidos nunca fizeram bem a ninguém" mas foi um momento tão passageiro que nem liguei.

Devo dizer-vos meus amigos que em boa hora o fiz, pois permitiu-me passar uma das melhores noites da minha vida. Comecemos pelo principio.

A Dianinha fez anos, e a sua festa foi no orange de santos. Como qualquer pessoa que quer ir para santos, apanhei o metro ate ao cais do sodre e a partir daí fui a pé com duas pessoas que me são muito queridas: O rui, meu irmão de jogos e anime, e a neuzinha, que é a minha outra metade, o meu alter ego.

A noite começou bem comigo a dizer ah e tal não posso beber e mandar dois goles na sangria (deliciosa, permitam-me que vos diga).

Uma hora mais tarde, juntaram-se-nos os marcos e a nininha e posso dizer-vos que a partir desse momento foi o descambar total.

Fomos todos ate ao vaca louca para beber uns shots (eu não bebi, não sou tão louca assim! Tinha acabado de tomar o meu antibiotico) e depois o pessoal dispersou todo para casa (fracos!) XD

Ficaram os herois da noite, eu, a nininha, a neuzinha, o rui e o marcos.

Oras, por volta das duas da manha, estando o marcos com uns copitos em cima e eu completamente drogada, decidimos começar a inventar frases de sexo que envolvessem historia e cultura inglesa. Foi daí que nasceram frases como: "Tu queres é o meu leviathan" ; "Estás com cara de quem precisa de ser convertida"; e a pior de todas "Deixa o meu saxão invadir as tuas terras francesas". Deixem-me dizer-vos meus amigos, que isto durou ate aproximadamente ate as sete da manha, hora em que ja ninguem conseguia mexer-se, quanto mais contar piadas.

Seria muito agradavel se a noite tivesse ficado por aqui, mas não ficou. Como toda a gente sabe, o bairro alto fecha por volta das quatro da manha, e não tendo mais sitio nenhum para onde ir, dirigimo-nos ao antigo "disorder", deu-nos tempo para comer-mos dois pacotes de batatas fritas e de ir a casa-de-banho (onde não havia papel higienico e tivemos de nos submeter a usar os lenços de assoar da neuzinha(és santa neuza)).

Estando essa discoteca fechada, dirigimo-nos a outro local chamado a merendeira, e quando pensámos que a noite não podia estar com um nivel mais baixo, eis que nos surge a rosa!

Quem é a rosa? perguntam voces. Oras eu passo a explicar. A rosa é uma senhora maluquinha que anda ali na zona do cais do sodre a falar das suas memorias de inglaterra, local onde serviria breakfástes(sim, porque é assim que ela diz) em troca de dar o olho do cu!

Devo dizer-vos amigos, que acho que nunca me tinha rido tanto na minha vida. Sentada na beira do passeio, as seis da manhã, a ouvir a rosa falar de inglaterra foi talvez o ponto mais alto da minha noite.

Infelizmente essa noite acabou e eu tive de voltar para o meu trabalho, mas n fui sem antes comer um crossaint de chocolate acabadinho de sair do forno!

Pronto, muita coisa ficou cortada pelo caminho, mas isto foi basicamente a noite da minha passada quinta feira e devo dizer-vos a todos os que tiveram comigo: é para reptir o mais cedo possivel!

Amo-vos a todos que estiveram comigo nessa noite

*deadmoonqueen*

Lugar vazio

Aqui vai a minha tentativa de escrever poesia. Não sou muito boa com isto, mas vamos lá.



Lugar Vazio



Olho em volta

O lugar que costumava ser teu

Vazio, seco, sem vida

As tuas marcas ja desapareceram,

mesmo após todos os anos que o usaste

Lembro-me de me sentar aos teus pés

de me contares historias fantásticas

sempre me apoiaste

sempre me protegeste...

Mas acabou,

sei que não voltas mais,

aquele teu lugar nunca mais sentira o teu calor

nem eu

Por vezes

quando a tua falta se torna insopurtável

sento-me na tua cadeira e recordo-te,

tento sentir-te

tento ouvir novamente as palavras sábias que me passaste ao longo dos anos

E por vezes juro que oiço a tua voz

Porque é que foste embora?

Não importa,

passado é passado

não volta mais

Sinto a tua falta,

sei que onde quer que eu esteja

tu proteges-me

Obrigada

pelo que fizeste

pelo que ainda fazes

gosto muito de ti papá

descansa em paz





*deadmoonqueen*

Nostalgia

Hoje não estou aqui na minha função de contadora de histórias, mas sim na minha função enquanto ser humano de 20 anos que sente nostalgia em relação à sua infância perdida.
Sei que este meu sentimento não é exclusivo, todos nós nos sentimos nostálgicos quando nos lembramos da nossa infância, da nossa inocência já ida em que acreditávamos que o pai natal nos metia os presentes debaixo da árvore e que a cegonha nos entregava à nossa mãe enroladinhos num lençol branco, prontinhos para sermos amados, uma altura em que acreditamos que os nossos pais são uns heróis e que viverão para sempre. As lágrimas que todos derramámos enquanto este mundo nos esbofeteava com realidades cruéis, ainda são cicatrizes que se abrem ao recordar-mos a nossa infância.
Nas palavras de Fernando pessoa:

A criança que fui chora na estrada

A criança que fui chora na estrada.
Deixei-a ali quando vim ser quem sou;
Mas hoje, vendo que o que sou é nada,
Quero ir buscar quem fui onde ficou.
Ah, como hei-de encontrá-lo? Quem errou?
A vinda tem a regressão errada.
Já não sei de onde vim nem onde estou.
De o não saber, minha alma está parada.
Se ao menos atingir neste lugar
Um alto monte, de onde possa enfim
O que esqueci, olhando-o, relembrar,
Na ausência, ao menos, saberei de mim,
E, ao ver-me tal qual fui ao longe, achar
Em mim um pouco de quando era assim.

Creio que a nostalgia vem mesmo da recordação de um mundo simples e sem problemas em que as nossas angústias eram não chegar a casa a tempo de ver os desenhos animados.
Como todas as crianças deste mundo, coisas houve que marcaram mais a minha vida e a disney é, sem qualquer sombra de dúvida, uma delas.
Todos sabemos as músicas de um ou outro filme da disney, todos assobiamos o “eu mal posso esperar para ser rei”, todos nos emocionamos a ouvir “as cores que o vento tem” e ainda rimos ao lembrarmo-nos do “ Zero a herói”.
A minha finalidade ao escrever este post é pedir-vos, a vocês meus leitores, que não larguem nunca a vossa inocência, não deixem nunca que a vossa mente e a dos vossos filhos seja totalmente conspurcada pela violência, vulgaridade e pela maldade. Lembrem-se sempre da vossa infância, das gargalhadas que largaram com amigos que hoje não recordam mas que na altura eram eternos e de todas as vezes que acordaram num fim-de-semana às sete da manhã, para conseguirem ver o dragon ball e as sailor moon a tempo e daqueles 30 minutos em que a vossa mãe vos chamava para fazer a cama e vocês ficavam sentadinhos no sofá para ver o novo episodio dos power rangers. Lembrem-se do pai natal, do coelhinho da pascoa, das bruxas que moravam debaixo da vossa cama e dos extra terrestres que tinham raptado os vossos pais quando eles vos ralhavam com um pouco mais de severidade.
Conseguem ouvir o guizo? Eu consigo...

Two on the aisle Pt.4

The days passed, and with them weeks and months. Their love for each other grew and grew and it had to be kept a secret from the outside world, only the two of them knew what happened when he took her out to the theatre or in the private piano lessons he gave her. They knew that if somebody found out what was going one between them, Anabelle's father was sure to make a position, one that probably involved Letto sent to Jail and Anabelle sent to a nunnery.
"Mr Vaughn" said Mr. Knotworth one afternoon “My dear daughter, Anabelle, has been expressing some curiosity towards the art of composing an opera. Maybe you could take her to your master's house and show her how it's done. I know that you must share the opinion that a woman should be kept in place and their curiosities should be tamed, but I think that further education in music won’t harm her and, since you are the one who's been teaching her, you should be the one to show her what her father is supporting."
Letto had learned over the past few Months that Mr. Knotworth had absolutely no respect for women and his wife and daughter were no exceptions. He also knew that he couldn't refuse him; it would be much too silly to do so, so Letto always agreed to Mr. knotworth0s every desire. That time was no exception.
That same night, Anabelle went to visit his master's house.
Once they got there, Letto noticed that Johansten wasn't home; he was out preparing his latest opera which was due to premiere in the following week. For the first time since the night where their fellings were spoken, they were completly alone. They could kiss and hug and nobody would bother them.
She undressed her jacket and took off her gloves, and letto told her to sit one the big comfy couch that decorated the big music room.
"Would you like a cup of tea?" he asked.
"I would love a cup of tea if it is not trouble." she awnsered gently.
Letto was preparing the tea and in the rush of doing it so Anabelle wouldn't have to wait too much for it; he ended up spilling it all over the floor. Anabelle approached him and took his hand in hers.
"What is the problem my love? Is it me? Do I bother your concentration?"
Letto looked at her eyes and felt like he could fall in love all over again. They were so beautiful and so gentle.
He stroked her face and then met his lips with hers. They kissed gently and then violently, letting all their desire burn freely.
Letto took Anabelle to his room and gently, took her pink dress off. Before he realized it, his shirt was off too and soon enough, they were both naked, lying in his bed.
He kissed her lips and cleaned the tear when they started running down her face. The room became too hot, the mirror in his room became cloudy, and the only sound that could be heard in that house, was the sound of their love for each other. Her skin was too soft, her lips too good. Her body was too small for his big, strong hands. Their bodies were covered in sweat and her hair was out of place. There was no one else in the world, just one creature, not living, not breathing, just loving.
"I love you Letto, I want to marry you someday" said Anabelle while cuddling in his arms naked.
"I wish we could get married too, but your father, he would never allow it"
"Then we run away together my love, we have our kids and our house far away from here!"
"Your father would send someone after us; we would never be truly happy and free"
"Why does it have to be so difficult Letto? Why does it have to be always about what the others think about us? You know I would gladly wash your clothes and prepare your dinner, I would give up on the fancy dresses and the diamonds if that meant we could be together. I just need you; I don't need the money, nor the things it can buy. You are everything to me Letto."
Letto looked at her, kissed the tip of her nose and got out of bed.
"Come my princess, I have to take you home or your father ... you know"
Anabelle Looked at Letto with sad eyes and he kissed her full on the lips."We will be together one day, I promise you!"

*deadmoonqueen*

Two on the Aisle Pt.3

We just stared at each other for long minutes, nobody saying a word or even wanting to.
Her eyes looked really sad and they were starting to make me feel uncomfortable.
When the uneasiness started to really annoy me, I got up and started pacing around the room. She kept her face down and still nobody talked.
When Mr. Knotworth and Johansten came back from their private meeting Letto was leaning against the window and Anabelle still sat on the couch in the exact same way she was when they had left to talk.
Letto looked at his master who was smiling in a way that he had never seen before.
“My boy” Mr knotworth said “Me and your master got to an agreement. You shall study music every single day from now on. You will not wash clothes, run errands or any other things that involves your usual work for your master. He shall have a servant for that.
I have, however, one demand: You, my boy, shall play in my house every Wednesday afternoon for my family’s amusement and to show me how you’ve progressed since I will be the one who will be paying for your studies.
What do you think Letto? You’re master’s rejoicing with it, now I just need your opinion.”
Letto didn’t know what to say, Mr. Knotworth was offering him his dream and all he wanted asking only for Letto’s progress in exchange.
“Of course Sir, I would be more than happy to meet your requests”
“Then we have a deal my boy” Mr Knotworth said looking very pleased while he extend a hand at Letto.
Letto squeezed it very happily. For the first time in his life things were changing for real.
From that day on Letto only lived for his studies and, like he had agreed with Mr. Knotworth, every Wednesday he would go to their house and show him what he had learnt during the week.
Letto’s relationship with Anabelle also developed from utter silence to big chattering.
He figured that Anabelle felt lonely with her strict parents and her annoying maids.
“Anabelle’s behaviour improved since you began talking to her, and being her friend Letto.” Mr Knotworth said one day while talking to him “I know that sometimes we exaggerate on the way we treat her, but she needs to be educated, she needs to be prepared for this world. Saddly enough, she is my only heir and she needs to know how to manage a fortune and take care of the house, all at the same time.”
It was the first time Mr knotworth had ever told him something personal and Letto was happy that he trusted him enough to talk to him about his family and his family issues.
Their friendship grew and Mr knotworth began trusting Lettto more and more everyday.
On the noght of the premiere of Johansten’s new opera, Mr knotworth asked Letto to take Anabelle to watch it.
“It will do her good” he said in his serious and deep tone “She needs to get out of the house sometimes and I can’t think of a better thing than to watch an opera, especially if it comes from one of the family’s protégés.”
Letto agreed and took Anabelle to see his master’s new opera.
She was gleaming with happiness and he thought he had never seen her so beautiful.
She wore a golden silk dress and her hair was beautifully arranged. She even had some make up on which gave her a bit of colour.
He could tell she was loving the show because she would concentrate on the stage when the actors were on it and clap enthusiastically once the scene finished.
When it finished she looked sad but with a sparkle in her eyes like she had had the most fun she had ever had in her life.
“When will you Premiere your first opera Letto?” she asked while he escorted her home after the show.
“I still have a bit of a way to go, but I’m working on my first opera right now. Hopefully it will be ready in a year or so.”
“I can’t wait to see it” she said, and she sounded sincere.
They continued to walk towards her house until Anabelle made an abrupt stop. She sighed and looked at Letto with her deep blue eyes.
“Sometimes I get so tired of my daily life. I want to see stuff freely like women are doing all over Europe and I cant. I’m stuck at home learning how to be the nineteenth century perfect wife instead of being the twentieth century post war woman.
Letto didn’t know what to tell her. It wasn’t the first time she had talked to him about that, but he still felt uneasy every time she talked to him about that. He wasn’t her father; neither could he help her, even if he wanted to. He had told her that.
“Ms. Anabelle, please, we already talked about this. Your father will get very mad if he dreams you have this kind of conversation with me.”
She just looked at Letto and then moved closer to him. So close that he could smell her, so close that if he leaned his face forward, just a bit…
She hugged, tightly, and then spoke to him with a sad voice.
“I know you can’t do anything about it, it’s just that I feel safe and different with you. I feel that I can speak to you and not get judged by anything I say.”
She looked at him straight in the eyes and there were tears glistening on her white powdered cheeks.
He scrutinized her face, not understanding fully what she wanted. She just leaned in and kissed him and he kissed her back passionately, grabbing the back of her head so that she could move closer to him.
Suddenly it hit him and he pushed her away gently.
“We can’t do this Anabelle, your father…your father will kill me and I will have no place to hide from that.”
“I love you Letto. Thank you for coming to my life and allowing me to experience what I thought it would never be possible: Happiness.” And then they were at each other’s mouths again.
They stood there on the street just tasting each other, not caring for the facto that the time was passing and that Anabelle needed to get home on time.
When Letto came to himself again he told her they had to go back to her house before her father started to loose his nerve and grounded her for the rest of her life.
He walked her home then, his hand intertwined in hers like there was nothing, nor a care in the world.

*deadmoonqueen*

Two on the aisle Pt.2

“Are you alright?” Letto asked as he approached the moaning girl “Do you need some help?”
She looked at him with a piercing gaze and furiously asked: “What does it look like, does it look like I’m fine?”
Letto was dumbstruck for a moment. “Another snob rich girl” he thought.
“Look miss, I’m here trying to help you. You could at least be nice and polite towards me don’t you think?”
Letto never really liked the snob girls. “Cows who think they can eat the grass that belong to other people and get away with it “. Those were his thoughts on the kind of girl that lay before him on the floor.
He wasn’t really feeling in the mood of bearing with some spoiled rich girl’s demands, he got enough of that with his teacher’s friends and clients.
He turned his back on her and started to walk away, if she was going to be bitchy, then she could be it all she wanted by herself. He gave a few steps before the girl started calling his name and asking him to stay with her.
Letto wasn’t one to hold grudges and after all it wasn’t the girl’s fault that she didn’t know how to treat people correctly, it was her rich parents and the education they usually gave to this girls. He turned back a helped the girl off the floor.
As she tried to put her foot on the floor she moaned and lost her balance on his arms.
Letto decided to lift her up on his arms and carry her towards her house.
“You will have to help me here like I’m helping you” Letto told her as he got down to pick the bag with Johansten’s stuff. “Carry that bag for me will you?”
She looked at him grudgingly and picked up the bag with unnecessary force, carrying it on her lap like a baby.
“What’s your name?” Letto asked politely.
“Are you trying to seduce me?” The girl asked in a very shocked way.
“No,” Letto said “I’m trying to know where to take you so you can be back to your maids and your house, so I need a name.”
The girl looked frightened for a second and then answered very slowly: “ Anabelle, Anabelle Knotworth…”
Letto stopped for a second. The Knotworth’s were very rigid people from what he had heard people say and this girl was in really bad trouble if she really was the Knotworth’s daughter.
He had heard people talk about her, the long blond curly hair, her fair skin and those cheeks who were always wearing that slight shade of pink that made her look flushed all the time.
They used to say that her actions, the way she eyed people, even the way she walked, made it look like she wanted to break free from something that wasn’t really palpable but that you still could feel it.
“Shouldn’t you be accompanied by a maid or something? Last time I heard respectable ladies didn’t wander off by themselves…”
“You are with me aren’t you? Then I’m not really by myself!” She stated in an arrogant way.
Letto just rolled his eyes and thought: “Not worth it…”
It took them about forty-five minutes to get to the knotworth’s mansion and once they got there, they were received by a great deal of servants holding raged dogs, who were ready to bite off Letto’s leg the minute e stepped inside the murals.
“Get them away!” She ordered “Get them away from us!”
The servants did as she asked a she pointed Letto to get into the house.
He too did as she said he was afraid that if he didn’t do so, the dog’s barking at his legs would come back and that time, she wouldn’t do anything about it.
He was led by a great amount of servants towards a room inside the big mansion. They told him to wait as they took Anabelle out of his arms and replaced the wet paper bag into his hands.
He waited for about half an hour until a very richly dressed man came into the room accompanied by a woman that looked a great deal with Anabelle, only older.
He took three grand steps towards Letto and looked at him with very serious eyes.
Letto extended his hand and Mr. Knotworth stood in his place just looking at it, not even making a small effort to shake it.
That was when Letto saw the mud on his hands and quickly hid them from Mr. Knotworth’s view.
“What’s your name boy?” the man asked in his arrogant a deep voice.
“Letto sir”
“Letto…And tell me Letto, who do you work for? Who’s your master?”
“I’m sorry sir, but I’m no servant, I’m a pupil to the opera writer Johansten”
Mr. Knotworth’s eyebrows rised as he looked at him with an amazed looked.
“An artist are you, a musician?”
“I’m trying really hard sir and I hope to be as good as my teacher one day”
“Humf…” was all Mr. Knotworth said as he went over to a desk that was in the room and took an envelope out of there and started to count money out of it.
“No no no no no no sir….” Letto said more embarrassed than ever “I didn’t help your daughter for money and I will not accept it.”
Mr. Knotworth looked at him again with the amazed look he had given him a few moments ago and put the money in front of Letto so he would reach for it.
Letto got up looked at the couple and without giving a second look at the money Mr. Knotworth had put if front of him said: “Have a really nice day”. He bowed to them and left without further conversation.
It was already night when Letto arrived home from his shopping and Johansten was already pacing up and down the large room that belonged to his house.
“Where were you Letto?” Johansten asked, clearly relived for the fact that Letto was fine and in good health.
Letto told his master everything that had happened that day and, as was expected from someone as Johansten, he overreacted like he always did on everything.
“You were all alone with the Knotworth’s daughter on a lonely muddy road and you took her home cuddled on your arms?! What were you thinking?!”
Leave it to Johansten to take something as simple as helping a needing girl into something indecent and worth of the greatest of shames.
“Don’t worry master, nothing happened. I just stumbled upon the girl on the road.”
“Don’t worry? DON’T WORRY? YOU JUST PRAY THAT CHARLES KNOTWORTH DOESN’T GET YOU ARRESTED FOR HIS DAUGHTER’S RAPE AND KIDNAPING!”
“He didn’t think that I raped her master.”
“How can you possibly say that?”
“He tried to pay me…”
“He tried… And you didn’t accept?”
“No”
“Why not?”
“Because I didn’t help the girl for money”
“Who cares???”
“I care”
You are a strange boy Letto”
Letto just shrugged and went to his room that was located in the lower floor, next to his music studio.
The next Morning Letto woke up with his master handing him a letter that was addressed from Mr. Knotworth.
The Letter thanked him for helping his daughter and invited him and his master to his house that afternoon for a cup of tea.
Johansten was out of himself. It wasn’t his first invitation to a rich person’s house, but the Knotworth’s were richer than any rich person in town and that was a big deal to Johansten.
Letto’s master made him put his best suit on and made him brush his hair more than necessary.
When the time came, they both took the cab to Carrots Street.
They were received by Mr. Knotworth himself. A big smile on his face, that made a big contrast with his serious look on the day before, and with a big welcome he inveted them in.
He took them both to a room where Anabelle and her mother were, sitting on what looked like to be a very comfy couch.
Anabelle was all dressed in black, and that colour made her look sick due to the whiteness of her skin.
Her blond curls were pined up into a glamorous hairdo and her eyes looked very sad.
He introduced us to his wife and daughter and then asked us to sit down on another couch that decorated the large room.
We talked about my learning all afternoon. Anabelle would look at me with deep sad eyes to lower her eyes to towards the floor again.
“I would love to hear that talent that your master says you have Letto. Your master tells me that you play the piano, please play for me and my family” And he took Letto to the grand piano that they had on the room.
He sat down on the piano bench and started playing, his music entering the room in a romantic soft way.
When the song finished and the room went silent, Letto heard some enthusiastic claps from behind him.
Mr. and Mrs Knotworth were standing and clapping with huge smiles on their faces.
“Very good, very good my boy. You really are as talented as your teacher says.”
Mr. Knotworth turned to Johansten and said: “I want to make a proposal, If you could accompany me and my wife to my office mr Johanesten I woul be very grateful”
Johansten agreed, not giving it second thoughts.
“Anabelle, while we’re gone do me a favour and behave. I think you did enough for the next month” And then her father exited the room followed by the other two persons involved on that private meeting.
We sat silent for long minutes until Letto heard her little voice say “I’m sorry”
Letto looked up at her and saw that she was looking at him with the same sad eyes she had used all afternoon.

*deadmoonqueen*