The perfect Workmanship by Ewerton Faverzani

The perfect Workmanship by Ewerton Faverzani

A Story by Ewerton Faverzani
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Pigmalião, adept sculptor of monumental fame, happened of Cyprus, had a talent rare and galgado in arduous and intempestuosas drudgeries that, most of the time, turned and revirava nights, sculpturing innumerable workmanships cousins who had exceeded the seven seas. Its fame if spread and continues venerated for the four cantos of the world.
It, although to be skillful in what it made, it kept a unanimous and indolent secret: it judged the women of the world total imperfect beings with infinite defects and idiosyncrasies. This deep certainty of that the women did not despertavam its more latent interest, for possessing a obscure universe, what it blinded its eyes and made it to suffer was the starting point to deliver the celibacy to it.
It passed years and years, prisoner to its modesty, praying and meditando in one longínqua hill, where if it locates the Ouranoo mount, sacred and protected for the Deuses of the Olimpo. There it found comfort and calmness for its training of meditation and devotion to the Deuses.
In the crack of the mountain highest, its was comforted with the space all and could live as to be primitive such which old the ancestral ones that inhabited the same ones in the prehistoric age. This made it to leave to practise the sculpture for full certainty of that at that moment it needed to open its interior vestibule and to free the third eye and holisticamente to find the solution that as much amargurava it.
Centuries had been transferred and Pigmalião continued to meditar, spoon wild fruits, mushrooms, and to hunt wild hares that inhabited there in the days most cold. Its age still seemed to the same one, having already its more than three hundred years. The mounts for being protected for the Deuses had the energy of youth: a magic fog that encircled mountains and who breathed its air, would live during centuries without aging.
In this period it started if to feel very only. This made it to come back to the old drudgery and to sculpture great workmanships again. At that moment, without wanting, a workmanship seemed to be most important, its third eye after all obtained to see among the penumbra that blocked its tranquillity.
Thus, it sculptured, during seven days and seven nights. In the last day, the result so waited: a statue of ivory, inestimable and intransferível value: the image of a perfect woman where never perfection in woman could be found some.
The sculptor completely hipnotizado with so great wonder did not get tired itself to admire its workmanship cousin. Infinite it was the devotion for it that he took it if to get passionate of unconditional form the workmanship.
He passed from that moment to treat the statue as if she was alive really. E thus, peregrinava, longínquas villages of pedlars to buy pretty clothes and to decorate loved its with jewels of inestimable wealth.
The times if had passed and the sculptor continued to adimirar it until one day, in a dedicated party the Goddess Afrodite, much venerated by those lands, Pigmalião offering sacrifices to the Goddess, requested to it that of this life to loved its. Having its carried through order, he married it and with it he had a called son Pafo, who later established a city homônima that she was dedicated to the goddess of the love.
E together had lived happy...
But it was not well thus, Pigmalião becomes entediado with the intermittent routine that the marriage causes to it. It found that after to be married the woman of its dreams, sculptured with all love, perfect, to have offered I sacrifice as offering the Afrodite and this in the blessed one, giving to life its more important workmanship, would be faithful and happy perpetual.
But, as all the man of meat and bone, it failed with its loved and to cure its tédio, passed nights in the tavern of vilarejo, drinking and if delighting in innumerable medéias...Until sculpturing pretty workmanships it did not make it more. It loses the creativity.
E from that time the men had never more been the same ones...
E the sun shone as never it had shone before, therefore was not common perfect sculptures to turn women... E the Afrodite Goddess cried...


© 2008 Ewerton Faverzani



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Added on February 16, 2008
Last Updated on November 3, 2008

Author

Ewerton Faverzani
Ewerton Faverzani

Porto Alegre, RS, Brazil



About
I am a writer of literature surreal. As one of my main references, I have so many idols as masters, the monumental plastic artist Salvador Dal. Currently I develop studies in the area of audiovisual m.. more..

Writing