Heath Ledger (1979-2008)

Excertos da entrevista de Ledger ao New York Times, há duas semanas atrás:

“Last week I probably slept an average of two hours a night,” he said. “I couldn’t stop thinking. My body was exhausted, and my mind was still going.” One night he took an Ambien, which failed to work. He took a second one and fell into a stupor, only to wake up an hour later, his mind still racing.(...)Even as he spoke, Mr. Ledger was hard-pressed to keep still. He got up and poured more coffee. He stepped outside into the courtyard and smoked a cigarette. He shook his hair out from under its hood, put a rubber band around it, took out the rubber band, put on a hat, took off the hat, put the hood back up. He went outside and had another cigarette. Polite and charming, he nonetheless gave off the sense that the last thing he wanted to do was delve deep into himself for public consumption. “It can be a little distressing to have to overintellectualize yourself,” is how he put it, a little apologetically."

Juntemos a isto, os mil e um tiques nervosos, a desconcentração e a desorientação demonstrada na recente promoção de "I'm Not There":


Saber envelhecer, continua a ser a grande sabedoria da Vida.