The happiness of Joana
There were many good sensations.
To climb the hill, to stand at its edge.
To feel, without looking, the whole conquered extension of the landscape.
The wind fluttering the clothes, the hair.
Free arms and hands, the heart closing and opening wildly, but a clear and serene face under the sun.
And especially knowing that the earth under her feet was so deep and so secret that there would be no fear of violation through understanding, to dissolve its mystery.
This feeling had a glorious quality.
Some moments of music.
Music was in the category of thinking, both vibrated the same movement and shape.
The same nature of thinking, so close that when hearing it, thoughts were revealed.
So intimate to her thoughts that when listening to someone repeating slight nuances of sounds, Joana was surprised as if she was invaded and mirrored.
She even stopped feeling the harmony, when the melody became too popular – it was no longer her melody.
And when listening to it several times, the similarity was broken, because her thoughts were never repeated, making the song fresh although equal to itself, because the thought was the same as always renewed and recreated music.
Joana was not deeply related with all the sounds. Only with the pure ones, in which all that she loved was neither tragic nor comic, but of infinite sweetness.
Excerpted, freely adapted and translated from the novel “Perto do coração selvagem” by Clarice Lispector