FRED FERNANDES

A BRIEF LOOK

1st edition
Rio de Janeiro – 2011

PUBLISHER MUIRAQUITÃ
RIO DE JANEIRO - BRAZIL
 A BRIEF LOOK

In brief consultation with Aurélio Dictionary online version, I learned meaning of "look"
staring into the eyes, look after, examine, take account; be facing; to mind, looking at himself, see
himself. All these settings are correct and elucidated, and all point to the detail that an open line of
communication is through the eyes, but I think latter is philosophically perfect, looking at himself,
see himself. This is exactly how I notice the look, like a mirror of humanity, where we look the
other and, in some measure that takes us look inward. The other, although different if we like. The
exchange of glances is fundamental, thus for human existence itself! But let me bring in here
these reveries, I forget the motivator of this brief foray to Aurelius now report that prior
experience ...
These later - cold and rainy - aboard a bus bound for Rio January - coming from Volta
Redonda - amid Serra das Araras, it occurred to me one of the most unusual experiences I've ever
had and that would mark me deeply. It was just an exchange of glances and even though the
rapid developments occurred not suggesting I can say that much has been said these few seconds
when my eyes met hers. No, it was an exchange of glances with sexual overtones! It was not even a
brief look that suggests a time of flirting and when I write this I must confess a certain relief in
knowing that my wife - after reading this chronicle - will not change the lock house. In fact, just the
whole experience did not have something intimate, you can not steal a complete absence of
intim.
The rain and cold rocked consequent lowering and landscape - always stunning - the Serra
das Araras. I do not know if the reader has already experienced such a journey but the low
temperature, rain and curves and favor too, at first, contemplation and finally, the full absorption
in thought. Please me these moments where I know that someone is driving my body to a chosen
destination, safely, within for the anticipated time for me ever known. Allow me then enjoy
a sea of tranquility as rare in my daily life.acy.
Living in this climate, between a bow and another could see a car matching with the bus.
You know when your eyes are a object and you still can not see? I can not tell how and why
but fact is that I woke up in the car, in the backseat, a girl sitting next to a guy my attention. My
eyes met her and what she gave me back disturbed me. There was a feeling of confusion,
of great confusion. His look told me that there was repentance. A repentance typical mischievous
children.
I remembered - later – of countless times that I, a child, did something wrong and was
caught in glaring at my mother, my father or some other character
"adult world", which always took me in one way or another, to be before my parents in the
unpleasant condition of the defendant. Then there was what do not repent. Sometimes hid my face
in his hands, hopeful that it were all a nightmare, a scare. With Over the years, as I was growing up
and making me be an integral this strange "adult world", I realized that the consequences of my
actions could - and invariably they were - be very painful.
But back to the beautiful young lady's eyes got me hypnotized. The bus accelerated at the
next corner and the car behind us. I waited anxiously that it reached the next curve, which in fact
occurred. In slow the car was approaching, and I could see its color, and with
some surprise, identifying him as a police car. In the backseat Our gazes turned to cross. I searched
and saw his hands clasped at hands of his companion. And I saw something else. The owner of the
look that captivated me and intrigued, he was handcuffed. The position that bound his arms to his
companion made them necessarily got a little bent.
 Immediately thought that what I considered as an exchange of glances was actually just my
one-sided interpretation of events. But behold, in another corner the car was back again, and by
some seconds, I was looking for a better angle, which could again have
the rear view of the car. A curve ahead, neck stretched backward I could see her looking me in the
bus window. Our eyes met then another - and this would be the last - time. There, in that
moment I could tell him that I knew of his condition as a recluse, a prisoner, and somehow, it was
sympathetic to his insecurity and his fear in his look of the captured animal. She, in turn, gave it
back to me asking me look relief but no doubt complicity.
A few yards away, holding up my look of bewilderment, she seemed to understand that the
next bend our communication would no longer be possible. She looked at his hands cuffed, looked
back at me and just smiled. A sad smile indeed! Of hopelessness and resignation.
Smile of farewell. Reciprocates with a slight nod and a more we look ...
I never saw her, I know nothing about it, even on the crime he committed. I know that this
region is common to drug trafficking and more commonplace yet imprisonment of young people
who act as "mules. " But, I confess myself impressed today with that look, with the silent
communication that we establish this time and, above all with the absolute sadness expressed by
that girl.
To this day, often find myself imagining that his offense was not severe, that it was primary,
of good family and a good lawyer freed from serving a sentence in a prison. I confess however that
I am romanticizing the scene. After all, that girl can be just the opposite
than described here, may be far from having committed the first offense, may be a dangerous
criminal and experienced and can, why not, be now rotting in a jail cell.
But actually, I think that nothing, absolutely none of this matters- me. I am interested in only
the contact established and shining in the simple exchange looks and the sad face of that girl. I'll
never forget that smile that much in his resignation had to say and, in some
so, I know that by targeting one girl - an example of what brought me Aurelius - I was in front of
myself, my fears, my weakness and why not, and my own secret crimes.

Note: This chronicle was originally written in Portuguese later translated into English using Google
Translate as a tool. The author apologizes for expected failures of process and the understanding of
the reader.The author also requests that if the reader has taken the trouble to get here, do not you
leave that to leave a comment on the text.