<ul><ol><ol><li style="text-align: left;">So here I am, upside down in a woman. Arms</li><li style="text-align: left;">patiently crossed, waiting, waiting and</li><li style="text-align: left;">wondering who I'm in, what I’m in for. My</li><li style="text-align: left;">eyes close nostalgically when I remember</li><li style="text-align: left;">how I once drifted in my translucent body</li><li style="text-align: left;">bag, floated dreamily in the bubble of my</li><li style="text-align: left;">thoughts through my private ocean in slow</li><li style="text-align: left;">motion somersaults, colliding gently against</li><li style="text-align: left;">the transparent bounds of my confinement,</li><li style="text-align: left;">the confiding membrane that vibrated with,</li><li style="text-align: left;">even as it muffled, the voices of conspirators</li><li style="text-align: left;">in a vile enterprise. That was in my careless</li><li style="text-align: left;">youth. Now, fully inverted, not an inch of</li><li style="text-align: left;">space to myself, knees crammed against</li><li style="text-align: left;">belly, my thoughts as well as my head are</li><li style="text-align: left;">fully engaged. I’ve no choice, my ear is</li><li style="text-align: left;">pressed all day and night against the bloody</li><li style="text-align: left;">walls. I listen, make mental notes, and I’m</li><li style="text-align: left;">troubled. I’m hearing pillow talk of deadly</li><li style="text-align: left;">intent and I’m terrified by what awaits me, by</li><li style="text-align: left;">what might draw me in.</li><li style="text-align: left;">I’m immersed in abstractions, and only the</li><li style="text-align: left;">proliferating relations between them create</li><li style="text-align: left;">the illusion of a known world. When I hear</li><li style="text-align: left;">"blue," which I’ve never seen, I imagine some</li><li style="text-align: left;">kind of mental event that's fairly close to</li><li style="text-align: left;">"green"—which I’ve never seen. I count</li><li style="text-align: left;">myself an innocent, unburdened by</li><li style="text-align: left;">allegiances and obligations, a free spirit,</li><li style="text-align: left;">despite my meagre living room. No one to</li><li style="text-align: left;">contradict or reprimand me, no name or</li><li style="text-align: left;">previous address, no religion, no debts, no</li><li style="text-align: left;">enemies. My appointment diary, if it existed,</li><li style="text-align: left;">notes only my forthcoming birthday. I am, or</li><li style="text-align: left;">I was, despite what the geneticists are now</li><li style="text-align: left;">saying, a blank slate. But a slippery, porous</li><li style="text-align: left;">slate no school-room or cottage roof could</li><li style="text-align: left;">find use for, a slate that writes upon itself as</li><li style="text-align: left;">it grows by the day and becomes less blank. I</li><li style="text-align: left;">count myself an innocent, but it seems I'm</li><li style="text-align: left;">party to a plot. My mother, bless her</li><li style="text-align: left;">unceasing, loudly squelching heart, seems to</li><li style="text-align: left;">be involved.</li></ol></ol></ul>In: McEWAN, Ian. Nutshell: a novel. New York:
Nan A. Talese / Doubleday, 2016. p. 1-2. Assinale com V (verdadeiro) ou F (falso) as seguintes afirmações acerca do texto.( ) O narrador nostalgicamente rememora sua juventude despreocupada, anterior ao seu confinamento.( ) O narrador, por encontrar-se de cabeça para baixo, está confuso e imerso em ilusões acerca do mundo ao seu redor.( ) O texto reveste-se de ironia em função do descompasso entre a condição do narrador e seu domínio de linguagem.( ) O texto apresenta um relato incomum que instiga o leitor a conjecturar acerca do desenvolvimento humano e da formação da consciência.A sequência correta de preenchimento dos parênteses, de cima para baixo, é

Questão 52 de Inglês da prova UFRGS/2018

Questão 02

So here I am, upside down in a woman. Armspatiently crossed, waiting, waiting andwondering who I'm in, what I’m in for. Myeyes close nostalgically when I remembe

Questão 02

Questão 52 de Inglês da prova UFRGS/2018

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