Um mundo submerso em si mesmo, congelada a vontade dos outros para satisfação da nossa - sôfregos para percorrê-lo com a liberdade que só encontramos nos sonhos...

E hoje "sento-me" num canto do céu e escolho um lugar imaginário para ficar a contemplar... :)

On either side the river lie

Long fields of barley and of rye

That clothe the wold and meet the sky;

And thro' the field the road run by

To many-towered Camelot;

And up and down the people go,

Gazing where the lilies blow

Round an island there below

The Island of Shalott

Willows whiten, aspens quiver,

Little breezes dusk and shiver

Thro' the wave that runs for ever

By the island in the river

Flowing down to Camelot.

Four grey walls, and four grey towers,

Overlook a space of flowers,

And the silent isle imbowers

The lady of Shalott

Only reapers, reaping early,

In among the beared barley

Hear a song that echoes cheerly

From the river winding clearly,

Down to tower'd Camelot;

And by the moon the reaper weary,

Piling sheaves in uplands airy,

Listening, whispers 'tis the fairy

The Lady of Shalott

by Alfred Lord Tennyson (1843)