I still didn't talk. Not even good morning, nothing. I don't want to talk, I can't talk, maybe I don't know how to talk. I always sit in the back row and I know they think I'm weird and strange. But I'm going to stay quiet. The geography teacher asks what hemisphere we are in: “Bia, what hemisphere are we in?” I am in the hemisphere of silence, of non-speech, so you will not get an answer from me. I remain silent. I walk past the school entrance, where there are projects on display about people's disabilities: motor impairments, congenital diseases, sensory alterations, and I see something there. Did you know that people who don't speak don't do so because they can't hear? Deaf people don't speak because they've never heard speech. Am I deaf too? But I heard my mother this morning. And I heard the heavy rain and the geography teacher. I think what I want is to hear other things, so I can talk about other things. “Bia, I like your pants.” “Thank you,” I replied to Ana. Ana was strange and weird. She didn't speak. We both spoke to each other.
51
Made with FlippingBook Annual report maker