Regina Drummond

For Publishers


Regina Drummond

Giz Editorial Publishing House
Translated by Silvia Zanette Guimarães
For children up to 8

Quem acha que os sentidos são apenas cinco é porque não descobriu a magia. Neste livro, os sentimentos têm cor, o som tem sabor, o tato tem cheiro. E a imaginação vai matar até os mais corajosos – de medo.
São sete histórias que falam do mundo mágico. Três delas foram escritas pela autora. As outras quatro são adaptações que ela fez de interessantes textos do folclore internacional, trazidas para o mundo moderno sobretudo pelo uso dos cinco sentidos que todos temos: tato, paladar, audição, visão e olfato. Cada um dos textos privilegia um desses sentidos, embora abranja também todos os outros.

- Narrativa elegante e envolvente, apropriada à faixa etária à qual a obra se destina, resgata excelentes contos antigos ao colocá-los numa linguagem moderna.
- Cria contos novos a partir de elementos comuns e cotidianos.
- Traz sempre uma surpresa no final inesperado de cada um dos textos.

Summary of the book

The seven stories of this book play with the five senses. They seek to color the feelings and emotions, or find the smell and taste of the situations experienced by the characters, while still seeking the texture, sound and image of the objects.

"The June's bird" opens the book, giving a Brazilian touch to a fairy tale. It highlights the vision: it is full of colors, particularly brown, yellow and gold. Except for the humming bird, whose plumage is colored like the prince's clothing that fills the dreams of Princess Alena. It was inspired by a traditional tale of Pará State.

"The passion fruit ice cream," text created by the imagination of Regina Drummond, is a story full of good taste, playing with taste. A delicious ice cream is the instrument for a multitude of emotions: at each lap, the narrator feels a different sensation, a new flavor, a forgotten memory. All this interspersed with a conversation with a crazy face wrinkled seed, which appears and disappears as the ice cream is its home.

"Skeleton Woman" is a free adaptation of a folk tale of Inuit (or Eskimo). It came from a long, long time ago, and it was brought to the present day, as it happens in a fisherman's hut located on a beach lost on the Brazilian coast, where Jonas, an executive at a large company, likes to spend weekends and relax. The text is about the discovery of the other and the way attraction is changed into love, while playing with the smell, because it is full of significant smell.

"Adventures in the land of Sherlock Holmes", text created by the imagination of Regina Drummond, is told in first person. It talks about the pleasure and surprise travels can provide, illustrated with a visit to London, where magical things happen. Smells, colors and textures permeate this story, letting the reader play with smell, sight and touch.

"Maria Angula" is an interesting story from Ecuador folklore telling about a girl who could not cook. Despite this - or even because of it – it is a story full of smells, flavors and a haunted touch. It is going to shake up your taste, your smell... and your fear!

"The window of Tina", text created by the imagination of Regina Drummond, emphasizes the sounds and plays with the hearing. Tina liked to stay at the window, watching life go by. She did not participate or get involved with it; she just looked and imagined how would be the colors, sensations, tastes, smells. Until she took courage and . .. Just reading to know what happened! Before, But first, try to guess who this girl is...

"What women want" was rewritten from a tale of King Arthur cycle. That charming text tells the story of one of the Knights of the Round Table, who had to get married to a terrible witch and was rewarded because he accepted the way she really was. All the five senses are stimulated: sight, hearing, smell, taste, touch. And still another sense we all have: imagination.

The Passion Fruit Ice Cream
(full text)

It was a passion fruit ice cream. Huge. Bigger than me, and crowned with a delicious crispy crust.
I had to hold it with both hands. I wanted to lick it, but the fear it could fall down was stronger. I stared at it. It made my mouth water.
A very tiny seed, with arms and legs, and a little wrinkled face as the passion fruit itself, came out of the huge ice cream and stared at me.
"You will not eat my house, will you?" she asked.
Neither did I have time to answer. She did a pirouette in the air and dived into the ball, leaving a hole behind it. I blinked and at once her sucked face appeared on the side, informing:
"Ok, I will let you lick the tip of the roof!"
My arms, now obedient, brought me the ice cream and I could prove it.
It tasted like the sea, a sweet sea, it had the sweet taste of salty sea when first seen, the taste someone feels when licking with the eyes those heaps of water. It tasted like happiness.
It tasted like joy, stick the waves in the summer sun, rolling in the sand, to swallow water without being shocked, the sound of waves, boats full of fish returning in the evening, of calm, when the sea, gentle as a blue robe, hardly moves ... And it breaks lightly on the beach and foams ... Or would the white bubbles be the hair of the princess of the waters?
Woe, all these things that small lick of ice cream reminded me...
Before I had left of my dream, the seed was already back:
"You are melting my house! Go out of this sun! And lick your fingers!"
I obeyed. And I was taken to the mountains, where a delicious fresh air could be felt. Everything was green and soft around me, as if the yellow of the sun had met the blue sky, just to color the leaves, the grass, the weeds...
I felt the taste of earth in the mouth, such a good taste... It had mixed with bright and colored stones, and jewels that awaken the greed of people, but who was crazy to think this nonsense, while tasting the different flavor they had?
Diamond tastes like resting in the trap, at dusk, trap balancing lazy in the wind, and it goes and comes, and comes, and goes and never stops...
Licking an amethyst remembers hiking the trail, strong and rhythmic footsteps, backpack, hand fending off branches of trees.
Emerald has the taste of the joy of talking with our own heart, hearing the voice of the trees and stones, being charmed with the chirping of birds, it has the taste of the loneliness of those who are never really alone...
Ruby is a tasty stone; it tastes the blood of the beasts that lurk among the trees and whose smell my nose does not realize… But when mixed with sapphires, it is sweet and gives the body a feeling of softness...
And the turquoise, which gives courage and victory, has the taste and smell of battles, while the pearls have a taste of salt of the earth mixed with chocolate, which changes into white if you put together a small opal.
Warm and gentle tears ran down my face.
"You are raining in my house! "cried a shrill and nervous voice. –Don't you see the walls melt? And, lick the cone, please!"
I obeyed.
I couldn't understand anything, but I felt like a big, open place, where the wind runs like a wild horse, with nothing to hold it, free and loose ... Cold made me cringe. I found myself a pawn in the pampa, a vagrant in search of the horizon, who rests taking his mate, while looking at the flames of the fire, dreaming of a thousand adventures...
"Just imagine what you're doing!" Despite the authoritative tone, there was friendship in the voice of the little seed. "Lick it! Lick it soon, or you will mess up my clothes!"
Again, I obeyed, with no questions. And I felt the taste of the fire, in front of which my mother was sitting. The pawn was gone, she was alone, and looked at me with her sly and kind smile. My mouth watered, a sour candy gave me a pleasant chill ... There she was, all in one piece: kissing my wound, quarreling with me because I made a mess in the room, making me eat all my food, taking me to the movies bringing me a little gift hidden in the bag, taking me on her lap...
And there came the seed again:
"No, no, no!" Mom, it's too big to go through! Don't you see it is knocking down the walls?
I stood looking at the seed. I didn't know what to do or to say. For her, my way was all wrong. But suddenly she ordered me:
"Now that you ruined my house, will you please clean all?"
I kept looking at, without understanding.
"Come on, eat! Lick, suck, chew, swallow! That is to eat, ins't it?" I had turned statue.
She winked at me:
Good Bye! I'll move to another place! – and she disappeared in the air, waving with her left hand.
I got to do what she had ordered, with no hurry. And I felt the taste of the sun, cloud, tenderness, pain, music, stories, games, colors, friends, tears, rain, anger, birthday cake, teacher, madness, laughter, sadness, yearning, love, life!
I finished my passion fruit ice cream and, dumb like a giraffe, i tried to lick my T-shirt, where a spot announced I had wasted a drop of emotion.
I sighed, looking at the flowers on the windowsill. They didn't pay attention to my insignificant person, meaning that life had returned to normal. But the planet Earth, in the month of March, when the world becomes fresher, and the rain is preparing to fertilize the soil, reminded me I'm still alive, which means that emotions are always possible. I began to dream of a water melon ice cream.

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