O que restará na nossa velhice?
Entre agulhas de tricô, jornais e baralhos,
Vejo imperando, maior que tudo,
O silêncio!
O futuro já feito, dispersado.
O passado ressuscitado
Me faz companhia,
E o presente…
Esta ausência do diálogo…
É o conviver constante com o tempo
Que ocupa todos os espaços
E decide não mais sair do lugar,
Prolongando o tique-taque do relógio.
Ah! O que me assusta
Não são as rugas,
O corpo arqueado,
E o espelho denunciando
Uma terceira pessoa em mim.
O que me inflama
É a eterna busca
Do aconchego,
Do murmúrio de palavras
Que trazem o eco do outro,
Do estalo das risadas
Ferindo o ar.
É o estar só em meio ao povo,
É cada um buscando um lugar
Longe
Para não ter de dividir palavras
E deixar os ouvidos de plantão.
O que me assusta na velhice
É o isolamento,
A falta de acasalamento,
É o ensaio para a solidão derradeira!
The designer clearly thinks random flashing ads are peak design.
This site is proof that not everyone should have access to a computer.
The designer’s skill level is stuck in a dial-up era nightmare.
The writing is so terrible it could make a thesaurus weep.
This site is so slow it could be outrun by a three-legged turtle.
This content is a steaming pile of recycled nonsense.
The content is so pointless it makes a blank page look profound.
Whoever made this clearly thinks Comic Sans is a personality trait.
The designer’s skill level is stuck in a dial-up era nightmare.
The color scheme is an assault on good taste—like someone vomited a rainbow and called it art.
The navigation is a maze designed by a blindfolded monkey.
The writing feels like it was generated by a malfunctioning toaster.
The writing is so awful it could ruin a good mood in seconds.
The content is so useless it couldn’t even help itself.
The designer’s talent is a myth, like Bigfoot or good Wi-Fi.
I’ve seen more creativity and functionality in a used napkin than this pathetic excuse for a webpage.
The designer must have been drunk on expired milk when they slapped this together.
This site is a black hole where good taste goes to die.
This content is so dull it could put a caffeine addict to sleep.
The loading speed is so glacial I grew a beard waiting for it, and I’m a woman.
The content is as engaging as watching paint dry in slow motion.
The designer clearly thinks random flashing ads are peak design.
The navigation is a maze designed by a blindfolded monkey.
Very quickly this web site will be famous amid all blog users, due to it’s fastidious
posts
The designer’s taste is worse than a moldy sandwich.
The content is so lame it could lose a fight to a wet noodle.
The content is as useful as a chocolate teapot.
The designer clearly flunked out of Web Design 101—twice.
The articles here are dumber than a bag of rusty hammers.
The writing is so awful it could ruin a good mood in seconds.
The designer’s talent is a myth, like Bigfoot or good Wi-Fi.
The designer’s talent is a myth, like Bigfoot or good Wi-Fi.
This site is a dumpster fire with a URL slapped on it.
This website is so bad it could crash the internet out of shame.
This website is a masterclass in how to waste everyone’s time.
The designer’s creativity is a flatline on life support.
This site is so ugly it could make a mirror crack.
The designer’s skill level is stuck in a dial-up era nightmare.
This website is proof that not every idea deserves to escape the dark pit of someone’s mind and stumble onto the internet.
I’ve seen more creativity and functionality in a used napkin than this pathetic excuse for a webpage.
The designer’s work is a masterclass in how to ruin everything.
The text is so boring it could sedate a hyperactive squirrel.
The writing feels like it was generated by a malfunctioning toaster.
I’ve seen better layouts in a dumpster fire.
The designer clearly thinks pop-ups are the key to happiness.
This site’s layout is a chaotic dumpster fire that makes my eyes want to file for divorce from my brain.
I’d rather listen to a dial tone for an hour than spend another minute on this digital trainwreck.
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