It was one of those ordinary days. He went to the lab where he was working as a researcher. As usual, he moved past every desk without greeting anyone. He felt as if he was there more than the time he was at home. He just feels like he has not left since the beginning of this year. As he passes by every desk, he noticed a leaf on the ground. He picked it, and moved on.

When he reached the office, he put it next to his desk and started working. Then, he looked back at it. He was seeing the beauty within that leaf. The green surface and the different sizes of all black lines on that leaf. He was looking at it and thinking, this must be perfection! If an artist have done it, he must knew what every eye would be eager to see. There is no particular sequence to the lines. But, the whole texture screams life!

PT

Era um daqueles dias comuns. Ele foi para o laboratório onde trabalhava como pesquisador. Como de costume, passou por todas as mesas sem cumprimentar ninguém. Sentia como se estivesse ali mais tempo do que em casa. Parecia que não saía dali desde o início do ano. Ao passar por cada mesa, notou uma folha no chão. Pegou-a e continuou seu caminho.

Ao chegar ao escritório, colocou-a ao lado da mesa e começou a trabalhar. Então, olhou para ela novamente. Contemplou a beleza contida naquela folha. A superfície verde e as diferentes espessuras das linhas pretas que a compunham. Observou-a e pensou: isto deve ser a perfeição! Se um artista a criou, certamente sabia o que todos desejariam ver. Não há uma sequência específica nas linhas. Mas toda a textura grita vida!

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