What We Talk about When We Talk about Love.

“Well, Nick and I know what love is,” Laura said. “For us, I mean,” Laura said. She bumped my knee with her knee. “You’re supposed to say something now,” Laura said, and turned her smile on me.
For an answer, I took Laura’s hand and raised it to my lips. I made a big production out of kissing her hand. Everyone was amused.
“We’re lucky,” I said.
“You guys.” Terri said. “Stop that now. You are making me sick. You’re still on the honeymoon, for God’s sake. You’re still gaga, for crying out loud. Just wait. How long have you been together now? How long has it been? A year? Longer than a year?”
“Going on a year and a half,” Laura said, flushed and smiling.
“Oh, now,” Terri said. “Wait awile.”
She held her drink and gazed at Laura.
“I´m only kidding,” Terri said.
Mel opened the gin and went around the table with the bottle.
“Here, you guys,” he said. “Let’s have a toast. I want to propose a toast. A toast to love. To true love,” Mel said.
We touched glasses.
“To love,” we said.

Extracto do conto “What We Talk about When We Talk about Love”, de Raymond Carver. Vem isto a propósito da crónica de hoje de Inês Pedrosa(*). “De que falamos quando falamos de ...”, é decididamnte uma expressão que já fizemos nossa, e mais um exemplo daquela capacidade que os grandes escritores têm de influenciar a língua que falamos; mesmo quando a língua é outra, e há um oceano pelo meio.

(*) Na Revista Única, no Expresso de 13/12/2008, “Uma crónica de amor. De que falamos quando falamos de entrega?”.