The Time

The old man hit the small empunhado round clock weighed the hammer of iron with the wrinkled hand while he compressed the dry lips. The old constructed object to mark the hours had been present of its grandfather when it still was child and, then an indispensable item in the pocket of its vestments became daily. Since then, it started to live controlled for the time, before making any thing it always searched to look at and to examine the marker in order to know how many minutes remained day to finish it. Day after day, it if more hostage of that gift became each time which had earned.

Elegant tic tac of the clock passed the life all saying to it what it would have to make. When to sleep, to wake up, to leave, to eat, to work, to namorar and to study. Now, beirando the 80 years, it wanted to make in any way that to stop to function, did not aguentava the torture more to attend the hand working in favor of the responsible one for aging to it. The sweat slid of its extemporaneous through the beard snow color until dripping quiet in the ivory table, joining itself it very small puddle formed for the too much drops. It beat with force, fury, and the pompous object insisted on showing the hours to it seeming to scoff of its useless effort. Tired to try in they go to destroy the torment of its life, the old one abruptly launched the gift of the deceased grandfather for the only narrow window of the room, making to fall down disastrously from a high place of the tenth floor. thus, if forever exempted of the troublesome mecanismo.’ ‘ It does not advance to fight against tempo’ ‘ It thought the old one, propped up on parede.’ ‘ It never will go to stop, you can estagnar, but it never will pause. Treacherous and advances this fast such of time and, if not to take care, when to look in the mirror, goes to be old without having noticed that some day passado’ lived one; ‘ Walked distracted for the sidewalk, the child stopped suddenly when seeing a majestical lost clock in the soil.

Curious, it she agachou collecting the old circular object that if incased perfectly in the palm of its hand. Accustomed with the digital clocks, she was fascinated with that deep tic tac produced by the majestical part that held. – We go son, we do not have time to lose. – the front called the father more, waiting impatient for the girl. It hurried the steps in direction to the father, and smiled happy, keeping in the pocket the instrument rare that she had found in the street. ps: As requested for vcs, I glue link of this site in the menu of mine blog. (The stamp) =).


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