15. Pequenas coisas perfeitas

... Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,

And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the

[floor (...)

Deep into that darkness pearing, long I stood there

[wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to

[dream before;

But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no

[token,

And the only word there spoken was the whispered word,

["Lenore!" (...)

(Edgar Allan Poe, The Raven)

Jim Giddings, Raven, Oil, paintstick & graphite on paper