mil e uma noites (I)

I’ll dress like an Arab, with complete black robes.

You, a dancer.
A veil covering your face, show only but your glowing eyes.

We’ll dance in the desert for a crowd of stars.
On one side, fire and tents paint the sand of gold with floating shadows and shapes, over the nightly cold. On the other, musicians and snake whisperers soak the canvas with a magical mist full of music and dreams, where we take the leading role following a tune known only to us

[sometimes] even the bridges that you burn...

... can be mended, if [only] you [can find a way to] trust your heart

the best thing on getting lost...

... is finding your way back

fairy tales [story of a heart]

the walls are high.

from its base, it’s hard to tell how high they reach, rivaling only the deserted mountains that surround them. even birds change their course not to crash against them.

despite the long unaccounted for and undetermined age, the fortress doesn’t look old.

the goldish brown stones hum a very low but strong rumble, and irradiate a gentle
[, almost confortable,] warmth.

those able to see it, are puzzled by the enourmously strong glow of octarine: changing light into million fractals, creating ever moving shapes, flowing lines and sketches of past memories, that follow the rhythm and music of a heartbeat

even sound falls short facing this fortress: its colossal mass absorbs all echoes and spoken words into its depths and oblivion

men are drawn to it, only to fall in despair in front of this unearthly giant. slowly, this stronghold corrupts and eats up their souls with the promises of immense wealth and happiness beyond it. in an obsessive feverish attempt, men desperately seek an entrance, a gate, something that will allow them to cross over and get to the dreamed land, slowly driven to complete madness.

it is said, however, that these walls have a weakness, a secret.
only those who know it, or those who by strenght and purity of heart manage to find it, are able to open up a door. a gate that may appear wherever it is summoned to if, and only if, and never ever by any other means, the person trying to enter undresses all pretenses, masks, selfishness and touches the wall with pure mind and heart

i'm allowed to run!!!!!

(slowly, but still...)

there is no future, there is no past...

...thank God this moment 's not the last

there's only us,
there's only this,
forget regrets, or life is your to miss

slow burn

double flame

el fuego original y primordial, la sexualidad, levanta la llama roja del erotismo y ésta, a su vez, sostiene y alza otra llama, azul y trémula: la del amor. erotismo y amor: la llama doble de la vida

my nights

it took me nearly a year to get here. it wasn't so hard to cross that street after all, it all depends on who's waiting for you on the other side.

it is only now that i feel that the wounds are starting to heal...

if i'd say, that even though i get to see you and to talk to you...

... i miss you terribly, would you believe in me?

paradiso perduto

she'll only break your heart, it's a fact.

and even though i warn you,
even though i guarantee you that the girl will only hurt you terribly,
you'll still pursue her.

ain't love grand?

sparkling

wear your best smile,
take out your fairy tale shoes,
just kiss the night, drink the music
and dance

the challenge [na senda de um calceteiro do Chiado]

i cannot even describe...

...how much i'd like to go for a run...

it starts

the end is where we start from. and every phrase
and sentence that is right (where every word is at home,
taking its place to support the others,
the word neither diffident nor ostentatious,
an easy commerce of the old and the new,
the common word exact without vulgarity,
the formal word precise but not pedantic,
the complete consort dancing together)
every phrase and every sentence is an end and a beginning,
every poem an epitaph. and any action
is a step to the block, to the fire, down the sea's throat
or to an illegible stone: and that is where we start.

in Four Quartets

a descoberta

no more quick patch-up feelings...

... i want the real thing [again]

empty promises

quando a gente gosta, é claro que a gente cuida,
fala que me ama, só que é da boca para fora,
ou você me engana ou você me cuida,
onde está você agora?

em estado de contemplação...

... e adaptação ao novo meio

o que era velho, estático e construído, demonstra afinal ser totalmente novo, e com muito mais profundidade que esperava

mas falta qualquer coisa...

[and that's why i can't find inspiration]

cinderella

…but nothing lasts forever,
always is a lie
though i know it in my heart:
that i’ll love you
‘till the day i die

the course of true love never did run smooth

or, if there were a sympathy in choice,
war, death, or sickness, did lay siege to it,
making it momentary as a sound,
swift as a shadow, short as any dream,
brief as the lightning in the collied night
that, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth,
and ere a man hath power to say 'behold!'
the jaws of darkness do devour it up;
so quick bright things come to confusion

desencontros

in the end, we're all but lost souls trying to live everyday the best we can...

everywhere i look, i only find people who fail to believe, who are too hurt to get back to that special place where everything is amazing, magic and possible.
¨
[after all, nothing is more painful than a shattered dream]

settled...

...finalmente...

home

there are [at least] seven reasons to fall in love with

never understimate the determination of a quiet man

Duncan Smith

what is there beyond your dreams?...

[...and where do dreams come from?]

in the dark

midnight creeps so slowly into the hearts
who need more than they get,

daylight deals a bad hand to a
man who has laid too many bets

chegada a Lisboa II

apparently it takes much longer to sort out a new home than a life...

525.600 minutes [how do you measure a year?]

there is no future
there is no past

[thank god this
moment is not the last]

there's only us
there's only this
forget regret or
life is yours to miss

there's only now
there's only here
give in to love
or live [forever] in fear
no other path
no other way
no day like today

la vie boheme

freedom, truth, beauty and love...

chegada a lisboa

slowly, i'm settling in: as i start unpacking, my mind wonders on this old new place, full of memories of a former self that will never come back

a map on my hand, with some stories and places, but mostly undrawn with sketches, projects, dreams and hopes, starts uncovering a restless, almost silent, desire to call this place home

the traveller is still here: this is not, by any chance, the last stop;

however, this is the birth of something unfamiliar so far: a port from where, as thousands of men hundred years ago, i can always leave and return with new stories, discoveries and experiences to share

traveller

i don't really belong anywhere,
yet
here i am

the big day is coming...

viajante

my [chosen] new travel companions, for my next trip, must be lost in some hidden magical bookstore somewhere in Lisbon

Al Berto (anjo mudo) and Milan Kundera (immortality), where can i find you?

[you are too good...]

if you don't want to be miserable for the rest of your life, look hard [and truly] to what you got in front of you, and grow [the fuck] up.

the city

tonight i'll wander over the cobblestones of a city that once saw me leave:
lost, i'm under a night sky that’s no longer mine

i hope you're happy...

... i really do

the stones of salamanca keep thousands of stories

under the milky way

i dream of someone who dreams [with] me. it's that simple

[thank you JGT]

off to the roman college city

i still haven't found what i'm looking for

zen philosophy says that once you stop looking for what you earn so much, your greatest desire will find you [i stopped looking…]

life is ...

it takes no time to fall in love
but it takes you years to know what love is
and it takes some fears to make you trust
it takes those tears to make it rust
it takes the dust to have it polished

renouncement [like so many people]

mónica é uma pessoa tão extraordinária que consegue simultaneamente: ser boa mãe de família, ser chiquíssima, ser dirigente da "liga internacional das mulheres inúteis", ajudar o marido nos negócios, fazer ginástica todas as manhãs, ser pontual, ter imensos amigos, dar muitos jantares, ir a muitos jantares, não fumar, não envelhecer, gostar de toda a gente, gostar dela, dizer bem de toda a gente, toda a gente dizer bem dela, coleccionar colheres so séc. xvii, jogar golfe, deitar-se tarde, levantar-se cedo, comer iogurte, fazer ioga, gostar de pintura abstracta, ser sócia de todas as sociedades musicais, estar sempre divertida, ser um exemplo de virtudes, ter muito sucesso e ser muito séria.

tenho conhecido na vida muitas pessoas parecidas com a mónica. mas são só a sua caricatura. esquecem-se sempre ou do ioga ou da pintura abstracta.

por trás de tudo isto há um trabalho severo e sem tréguas e uma disciplina rigorosa e constante. pode-se dizer que mónica trabalha de sol a sol.

de facto, para conquistar todo o sucesso e todos os gloriosos bens que possui, mónica teve que renunciar a três coisas: à poesia, ao amor e à santidade.

a poesia é oferecida a cada pessoa só uma vez e o efeito da negação é irreversível. o amor é oferecido raramente e aquele que o nega algumas vezes depois não o encontra mais. mas a santidade é oferecida a cada pessoa de novo cada dia, e por isso aqueles que renunciam à santidade são obrigados a repetir a negação todos os dias.

isso obriga mónica a observar uma disciplina [muito] severa....

Sophia de Mello Breyner in Contos Exemplares

i missed you

all that i leave behind

i'm not sure, if all the numbness
i'm feeling right now,
is due to exhaustion,
or due to the tornado
that stormed my soul
in the last few weeks.

dreams

[all] my life,
is changing everyday,
[in] every possible way

though my dreams...
[they're] never quite as it seems,
[it's] never quite as it seems...

[silently] seeking you and dreaming on loving you

te sigo buscando tanto
[pero] tu en mi nunca te has fijado
por eso te tengo que inventar
por eso te tengo que encontrar

one thing i'd like to clear ...

...i'm not trying to save the world
[i just want you]

all these words i just don't say...

...and nothing else matters

waiting

but all day long i heal for the honey
waitin' for the one i love
the noons are hot with heartache aplenty
i'm lovesick and undone

poised, unrefined
delicate and loosely lined
oh i am a dreamer
but i'll deny it til' the day i die

you have three choices in life...

(i) be good
(ii) get good
(iii) give up

[the third is not really an option]

perfection is overated

being happy doesn't mean that everything is perfect. it just means that you've decided to look beyond the imperfections

rain

As coisas vulgares que há na vida
não deixam saudades
só as lembranças que doem
ou fazem sorrir

há gente que fica na história
da história da gente
e outras de quem nem o nome
lembramos ouvir

são emoções que dão vida
à saudade que trago
aquelas que tive contigo
e acabei por perder

há dias que marcam a alma
e a vida da gente
e aquele em que tu me deixaste
não posso esquecer...

NYC marathon...

...there is nothing like a little healthy obsession to put your mind off certain things

what have you seen?

nous avons vu des astres
et des flots, nous avons vu des sables aussi;
et, malgré bien des chocs et d'imprévus désastres,
nous nous sommes souvent ennuyés, comme ici

in Le Voyage

night owl

she walks in beauty, like the night
of cloudless climes and starry skies,
and all that's best of dark and bright
meets in her aspect and her eyes;
thus mellow'd to that tender light
which heaven to gaudy day denies.

one shade the more, one ray the less,
had half impair'd the nameless grace
which waves in every raven tress
or softly lightens o'er her face,
where thoughts serenely sweet express
how pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

and on that cheek and o'er that brow
so soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
the smiles that win, the tints that glow,
but tell of days in goodness spent,—
a mind at peace with all below,
a heart whose love is innocent.

Lord Byron

tempus fugit

crazy beautiful

you can be anywhere when your life begins. when the future opens up in front of you. and you may not even realize it at first, but it's already happening.

for you

foi para ti que criei as rosas.
foi para ti que lhes dei perfume.
para ti rasguei ribeiros
e dei ás romãs a cor do lume.

photo album [ou diário de uma viagem]

open my eyes.
late. need to rush. quick shower.
sullen eyes. lack of sleep: 3 hours max.
need to catch up.
get suitcase.
get taxi.
shit. forgot cufflinks.
quick call. no one is able to provide some. need to buy on the way.

get into 300 km/h train.
doze at the window.
exit the city.
suburban buildings. who lives here?
speeding up.
countryside. plains and more plains filled with colour and pride.
small towns powder the landscape.
heavy eyes. sleep.
wake up. still the sunny and moving landscape.
half way there.
tunnel. dark.
long time underground.
light again.
mountains. rivers in a new beautiful set.
towns getting closer. getting there.
arrive after 3 hours.

taxi. hotel.
very tired. need to recover.
spa. a quick nap.
cannot oversleep: need to there on time.
knock on the door. suit is ready.
get ready. it’s time to go.
arrive at the church.
don’t know anyone yet
wear my best smile.
congratulations are in order.
big hug.
i’m proud and very happy for you.
it starts. amazing choir.
she gets in. she’s so pretty.
i’m so proud of both.
he cannot stop caressing her hand
can’t stop smiling.
ends. sign my name. now it’s official

old and new faces.
laughs. kisses. hugs.
good to see you.
get in bus.
traffic. much time travelling.
mountains again.
night. full moon. glowing eyes.

palace in the middle of nowhere.
more people than before.
food. wine.
laughs.
more faces. more food. more wine.
stories are told. do you remember when?
pictures are taken. friends are met.

a phone call.
to her. need to share the moment.
her voice.
smile.
a promise? a dream?

magnificent and majestic rooms.
crowd sits down. music sounds.
they smile. they host.
feast surrounded by friends.
more food. more wine.
laughs.
a toast.
a foreign language is clumsily spoken.
more laughs. more toasts.
cigars.
smiles are shared.
eyes meet.

a speech. photos are shown.
i’ve been there many times. remember the good times?
promises are made to repeat these.
an announcement is made.
a new invitation. only next year.
more reasons to smile and believe in love.
even if not my own.

surround the couple. smile. toast.
music sounds again.
dance.
everyone’s so happy.
love the song. send a message.
dance more.
get everyone together.
you were there all this time.
get everyone to dance
too hot.
gardens.
mid night philosophy under the moon coloured trees
love stories are confessed.
raise a glass.
get back. new drink. dance.
im so happy for you.
very late. will miss the bus back.
run. get friends along.
trip back to the city.

alcohol, music and joy run fast in everyone.
songs are sung. more laughs.
need to find a place to go.
very very late. everything is closed.
no hope. need to call it a night.
very tired.
get back to the hotel.
late night meal shared with breakfast takers.
bed. smile.
it was a good a night.
close my eyes. sleep.

letting go

there are things i can't force.
i must adjust.
there are times when the greatest change needed is a change of my viewpoint

Denis Diderot

i've lost...

what it was,
i'm not even sure.
[but i definitely lost]

like the masters of rock

you can't always get what you want
but if you try sometimes you might [just] find
you get what you need

true love [?]

true love lasts forever
and is unconditional.
anything else,
just isn't...

378

numbers have power.
if you believe,
they're the magic you need
to make you happy

sad eyed boy (II)

the greatest thing
you'll ever learn
is just to love
and be loved
in return

the nightingale and the rose

'she said that she would dance with me if i brought her red roses,' cried the young student; 'but in all my garden there is no red rose.'
from her nest in the holm-oak tree the nightingale heard him, and she looked out through the leaves, and wondered.
'no red rose in all my garden!' he cried, and his beautiful eyes filled with tears. 'ah, on what little things does happiness depend! i have read all that the wise men have written, and all the secrets of philosophy are mine, yet for want of a red rose is my life made wretched.'
'here at last is a true Lover,' said the nightingale. 'night after night have i sung of him, though i knew him not: night after night have i told his story to the stars, and now i see him. his hair is dark as the hyacinth-blossom, and his lips are red as the rose of his desire; but passion has made his lace like pale ivory, and sorrow has set her seal upon his brow.'
'the prince gives a ball tomorrow night,' murmured the young student, 'and my Love will be of the company. if i bring her a red rose she will dance with me till dawn. if i bring her a red rose, i shall hold her in my arms, and she will lean her head upon my shoulder, and her hand will be clasped in mine. but there is no red rose in my garden, so i shall sit lonely, and she will pass me by. she will have no heed of me, and my heart will break.'
'here indeed is the true Lover,' said the nightingale. 'what i sing of he suffers: what is joy to me, to him is pain. surely Love is a wonderful thing. it is more precious than emeralds, and dearer than fine opals. pearls and pomegranates cannot buy it, nor is it set forth in the market-place. it may not be purchased of the merchants, 'or can it be weighed out in the balance for gold.'
'the musicians will sit in their gallery,' said the young student, 'and play upon their stringed instruments, and my Love will dance to the sound of the harp and the violin. she will dance so lightly that her feet will not touch the floor, and the courtiers in their gay dresses will throng round her. but with me she will not dance, for i have no red rose to give her;' and he flung himself down on the grass, and buried his face in his hands, and wept.
'why is he weeping?' asked a little green lizard, as he ran past him with his tail in the air.
'why, indeed?' said a butterfly, who was fluttering about after a sunbeam.
'why, indeed?' whispered a daisy to his neighbour, in a soft, low voice.
'he is weeping for a red rose,' said the nightingale.
'for a red rose!' they cried; 'how very ridiculous!' and the little lizard, who was something of a cynic, laughed outright.
but the nightingale understood the secret of the student's sorrow, and she sat silent in the oak-tree, and thought about the mystery of Love.
suddenly she spread her brown wings for flight, and soared into the air. she passed through the grove like a shadow, and like a shadow she sailed across the garden.
in the centre of the grass-plot was standing a beautiful rose-tree, and when she saw it, she flew over to it, and lit upon a spray.
'give me a red rose,' she cried, 'and i will sing you my sweetest song.'
but the tree shook its head.
'my roses are white,' it answered; 'as white as the foam of the sea, and whiter than the snow upon the mountain. but go to my brother who grows round the old sun-dial, and perhaps he will give you what you want.'
so the nightingale flew over to the rose-tree that was growing round the old sun-dial.
'give me a red rose,' she cried, 'and i will sing you my sweetest song.'
but the tree shook its head.
'my roses are yellow,' it answered; 'as yellow as the hair of the mermaiden who sits upon an amber throne, and yellower than the daffodil that blooms in the meadow before the mower comes with his scythe. but go to my brother who grows beneath the student's window, and perhaps he will give you what you want.'
so the nightingale flew over to the rose-tree that was growing beneath the student's window.
'give me a red rose,' she cried, 'and i will sing you my sweetest song.'
but the tree shook its head.
'my roses are red,' it answered, 'as red as the feet of the dove, and redder than the great fans of coral that wave and wave in the ocean-cavern. but the winter has chilled my veins, and the frost has nipped my buds, and the storm has broken my branches, and i shall have no roses at all this year.'
'one red rose is all i want,' cried the nightingale, 'only one red rose! is there no way by which i can get it?'
'there is a way,' answered the tree; 'but it is so terrible that i dare not tell it to you.'
'tell it to me,' said the nightingale, 'i am not afraid.'
'if you want a red rose,' said the tree, 'you must build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with your own heart's-blood. you must sing to me with your breast against a thorn. all night long you must sing to me, and the thorn must pierce your heart, and your life-blood must flow into my veins, and become mine.'
'death is a great price to pay for a red rose,' cried the nightingale, 'and life is very dear to all. it is pleasant to sit in the green wood, and to watch the sun in his chariot of gold, and the moon in her chariot of pearl. sweet is the scent of the hawthorn, and sweet are the bluebells that hide in the valley, and the heather that blows on the hill. yet Love is better than life, and what is the heart of a bird compared to the heart of a man?'
so she spread her brown wings for flight, and soared into the air. she swept over the garden like a shadow, and like a shadow she sailed through the grove.
the young student was still lying on the grass, where she had left him, and the tears were not yet dry in his beautiful eyes.
'be happy,' cried the nightingale, 'be happy; you shall have your red rose. i will build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with my own heart's-blood. all that i ask of you in return is that you will be a true Lover, for Love is wiser than philosophy, though she is wise, and mightier than power, though he is mighty. flame-coloured are his wings, and coloured like flame is his body. his lips are sweet as honey, and his breath is like frankincense.'
the student looked up from the grass, and listened, but he could not understand what the nightingale was saying to him, for he only knew the things that are written down in books.
but the oak-tree understood, and felt sad, for he was very fond of the little nightingale who had built her nest in his branches.
'sing me one last song,' he whispered; 'i shall feel very lonely when you are gone.'
so the nightingale sang to the oak-tree, and her voice was like water bubbling from a silver jar.
when she had finished her song the student got lip, and pulled a note-book and a lead-pencil out of his pocket.
'she has form,' he said to himself, as he walked away through the grove - 'that cannot be denied to her; but has she got feeling? i am afraid not. in fact, she is like most artists; she is all style, without any sincerity. she would not sacrifice herself for others. she thinks merely of music, and everybody knows that the arts are selfish. still, it must be admitted that she has some beautiful notes in her voice. what a pity it is that they do not mean anything, or do any practical good.' and he went into his room, and lay down on his little pallet-bed, and began to think of his Love; and, after a time, he fell asleep.
and when the moon shone in the heavens the nightingale flew to the rose-tree, and set her breast against the thorn. all night long she sang with her breast against the thorn, and the cold crystal moon leaned down and listened. all night long she sang, and the thorn went deeper and deeper into her breast, and her life-blood ebbed away from her.
she sang first of the birth of Love in the heart of a boy and a girl. and on the topmost spray of the rose-tree there blossomed a marvellous rose, petal following petal, as song followed song. yale was it, at first, as the mist that hangs over the river - pale as the feet of the morning, and silver as the wings of the dawn. as the shadow of a rose in a mirror of silver, as the shadow of a rose in a water-pool, so was the rose that blossomed on the topmost spray of the tree.
but the tree cried to the nightingale to press closer against the thorn. 'press closer, little nightingale,' cried the tree, 'or the day will come before the rose is finished.'
so the nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and louder and louder grew her song, for she sang of the birth of passion in the soul of a man and a maid.
and a delicate flush of pink came into the leaves of the rose, like the flush in the face of the bridegroom when he kisses the lips of the bride. but the thorn had not yet reached her heart, so the rose's heart remained white, for only a nightingale's heart's-blood can crimson the heart of a rose.
and the tree cried to the nightingale to press closer against the thorn. 'press closer, little nightingale,' cried the tree, 'or the day will come before the rose is finished.'
so the nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and the thorn touched her heart, and a fierce pang of pain shot through her. bitter, bitter was the pain, and wilder and wilder grew her song, for she sang of the Love that is perfected by death, of the Love that dies not in the tomb.
and the marvellous rose became crimson, like the rose of the eastern sky. crimson was the girdle of petals, and crimson as a ruby was the heart.
but the nightingale's voice grew fainter, and her little wings began to beat, and a film came over her eyes. fainter and fainter grew her song, and she felt something choking her in her throat.
then she gave one last burst of music. the white moon heard it, and she forgot the dawn, and lingered on in the sky. the red rose heard it, and it trembled all over with ecstasy, and opened its petals to the cold morning air. echo bore it to her purple cavern in the hills, and woke the sleeping shepherds from their dreams. it floated through the reeds of the river, and they carried its message to the sea.
'look, look!' cried the tree, 'the rose is finished now;' but the nightingale made no answer, for she was lying dead in the long grass, with the thorn in her heart.
and at noon the student opened his window and looked out.
'why, what a wonderful piece of luck! he cried; 'here is a red rose! i have never seen any rose like it in all my life. it is so beautiful that i am sure it has a long latin name;' and he leaned down and plucked it.
then he put on his hat, and ran up to the professor's house with the rose in his hand.
the daughter of the professor was sitting in the doorway winding blue silk on a reel, and her little dog was lying at her feet.
'you said that you would dance with me if i brought you a red rose,' cried the student. here is the reddest rose in all the world. you will wear it tonight next your heart, and as we dance together it will tell you how i Love you.'
but the girl frowned.
'i am afraid it will not go with my dress,' she answered;' and, besides, the chamberlain's nephew has sent me some real jewels, and everybody knows that jewels cost far more than flowers.'
'well, upon my word, you are very ungrateful,' said the student angrily; and he threw the rose into the street, where it fell into the gutter, and a cart-wheel went over it.
'ungrateful!' said the girl. 'i tell you what, you are very rude; and, after all, who are you? only a student. why, i don't believe you have even got silver buckles to your shoes as the chamberlain's nephew has;' and she got up from her chair and went into the house.
'what a silly thing Love is,' said the student as he walked away. 'it is not half as useful as logic, for it does not prove anything, and it is always telling one of things that are not going to happen, and making one believe things that are not true. in fact, it is quite unpractical, and, as in this age to be practical is everything, i shall go back to philosophy and study metaphysics.'
so he returned to his room and pulled out a great dusty book, and began to read.

by Oscar Wilde

the man and the sea

homme libre, toujours tu chériras la mer!
la mer est ton miroir; tu contemples ton âme
dans le déroulement infini de sa lame,
et ton esprit n'est pas un gouffre moins amer.

tu te plais à plonger au sein de ton image;
tu l'embrasses des yeux et des bras, et ton coeur
se distrait quelquefois de sa propre rumeur
au bruit de cette plainte indomptable et sauvage.

vous êtes tous les deux ténébreux et discrets:
homme, nul n'a sondé le fond de tes abîmes;
ô mer, nul ne connaît tes richesses intimes,
tant vous êtes jaloux de garder vos secrets!

et cependant voilà des siècles innombrables
que vous vous combattez sans pitié ni remords,
tellement vous aimez le carnage et la mort,
ô lutteurs éternels, ô frères implacables!

Charles Baudelaire

it's time to drop all the masks...

... they haven't brought anything good so far

side by side

este é o paradoxo do amor entre o homem e a mulher: dois infinitos encontram-se com dois limites. dois infinitamente necessitados de ser amados, encontram-se com duas frágeis e limitadas capacidades de amar. e é só no horizonte de um amor maior que não se devoram em pretensão, nem se resignam, antes caminham juntos até uma plenitude da qual o outro é sinal.

Rainer Maria Rilke
(obrigado Lisboa)

a estrada

i'm not that boy

don't dream too far,
don't lose sight of who you are
don't remember that rush of joy

don't wish, don't start
wishing only wounds the heart
i wasn't born for the rose and the pearl
there's a [boy] i know
[she] loves [him] so
i'm not that [boy]…

epilogue

after all is said and done, i.e. when all loose ends are tied up, the story must end, unless of course, the end of the story is used as the seed of a sequel, teasing the reader to jump into a completely new story, where only the characters and the lessons learned are the same.

if these rules are not met, the author may risk babbling into pointless directions, leaving the reader with a sensation of frustration and wasted time, and what could have been a great story gets a very bitter taste ...

[...but then again, that may be exactly what the author intended in the first place.]

goodbye Madrid IV [las ventas]

the good fight

i know you try to carry the world at your shoulders. dealing with the problems the best possible way, keeping everyone around from worrying and knowing what's going on.
that's noble.
but even with your heart and skills, you're not invulnerable.
you can't deal with everything alone.
there are actually some us, that actually care, and will be there to help you through the good fight.
after all, sometimes, even heroes must be saved

human (II)

it matters not how far you reached,
nor how wealthy you got.
the cars, houses and money you owned,
the things that you saw
the problems that you solved
and the land and places that you changed
holds no value at all
the only thing that really matters
are the lifes that you touched
the people that you loved
and the truth in your heart

value investor

in the [pseudo] complex world of high finance, there is the common knowledge that in order to invest, you need to “enter” (i.e. buy) a position (i.e. investment) when it’s low (i.e. cheap), and “exit” when it’s high (i.e. expensive). investors call this phenomenon ‘riding the waive’.

the real talent in order to do so is to find those precise moments when to take a position [or when to leave], when there is a firm belief that whatever you’ll be doing will turn out to be good, to yield a good return.

some investors believe in gut feeling, entering an investment just because they like it, they “feel” it is going to be the next best thing close to winning the lottery [some go even further, saying that it better than…]. others believe that there are some strange and mystic forces that drive everything in the universe, including investments, and they dedicate their life in trying to predict the movements of a tick in a computer screen, based on the exact same pattern they saw in the year 1967, and that must mean something. some others don’t have a clue, and they choose whatever the flavour of the month is: “if everyone is doing it, i surely won’t be the last in line …”

and finally we have the value investor. these are the most cunning and thorough of them. they respect the market and their players. they choose pretty well their targets, devoting time, patience and all available resources to decide their move: get in, get out or do nothing. the basic principle behind this strategy is only to be part of investments that have perceivable [and understandable] future value: that have significant upside potential. keeping an ever vigilante spirit, and humbleness [they know that there are always people smarter, stronger and more informed] they reassess their options and actions continuously.

although they look at everything with a cold eye and mind, they have an enormous passion for it, and are extremely disciplined.
they get in and get out, only when they perceive true value add [or the absence of it].

[the most important thing is that] it matters not if they are winning or loosing, value is something that is quite perceptible [and tangible] to them. they’ll enter and exit a party at their own timing. not a minute sooner, nor a minute later. even when everyone thinks it is only getting good, even when it blows up in their face.

it is in your happiness...

... that i'll find mine.
you have no idea what you mean to me

los sueños existen...

...y vuelan entre nosotros

changes

the final journey [of this chapter] begins, what is waiting on the other side?

counting

thinking in terms of one
is easily done—
one room, one bed, one chair,
one person there,
makes perfect sense; one set
of wishes can be met,
one coffin filled.

but counting up to two
is harder to do;
for one must be denied
before it's [even] tried

Philip Larkin

trailing-stop

knowing is better than wondering,
waking is better than sleeping,
and even the biggest failure,
even the worst,
beats the hell out of never trying.

[and] whoever said that
"what you don't know can't hurt you"
was a complete and total moron.
because for the most [people] I know,
[myself included]
not knowing is the worst feeling in the world.

arid land

even the most beautiful and wildest of roses needs sun, water and roots to grow [the thorns are a completely different story]

italian passion

molti mari e fiumi
attraversero
dentro la tua terra
mi ritroverai
turbini e tempeste
io cavalchero
volero tra il fulmini
per averti

luce dei miei occhi
brilla su di me
voglio mille lune
per accarezzarti
pendo dai tuoi sogni
veglio su di te
non svegliarti....ancora

meravigliosa creatura
sei sola al mondo
meravigliosa paura d'averti accanto
occhi di sole mi tremano le parole
amore e vita meravigliosa

meravigliosa creatura un bacio lento
meravigliosa paura d'averti accanto
all'improvviso tu scendi nel paradiso
muoio d'amore meraviglioso

o fortuna

há um tempo em que é preciso abandonar as roupas usadas,
as que já têm a forma do nosso corpo;
e esquecer os nossos caminhos
que nos levam sempre aos mesmos lugares

é o tempo da travessia,
e se não ousarmos fazê-la,
teremos ficado
para sempre
à margem de nós mesmos...

Fernando Pessoa

i'd rather have a million bleeding feet...

...than to be hurt by you

serendipity

we don't always get to choose what we love

Scott Westerfeld in The Last Days

peter pan

i’m but a child,
with no past, no future
just the excitement of the moment,
waiting for the next surprise.

i gaze the world in awe,
amazed by all its beautiful things
i believe in power and magic,
an unexpected meeting,
the discovery of something new
dreams, and even fairytales

i believe in friendship and in love,
and that there is always someone
to take your hand, and clean your tears
i believe in heroes and in villains,
that there is always someone to look up to,
and someone who tries to bring you down

i fight for what i believe even if it scares or hurts me,
and when i feel beaten from a battle unknown or lost
i get comfort in knowing that my soul can fly,
in the warmth of a happy thought

minimum inflection point

aqueles que me têm muito amor
não sabem o que sinto e o que sou...
não sabem que passou, um dia, a dor
à minha porta e, nesse dia, entrou.
e é desde então que eu sinto este pavor,
este frio que anda em mim, e que gelou
o que de bom me deu nosso senhor!
se eu nem sei por onde ando e onde vou!!

sinto os passos de dor, essa cadência
que é já tortura infinda, que é demência!
que é já vontade doida de gritar!

e é sempre a mesma mágoa, o mesmo tédio,
a mesma angústia funda, sem remédio,
andando atrás de mim, sem me largar!

Florbela Espanca

sweet endings come and go

la noche buena se viene,
la noche buena se va,
y nosotros nos iremos
y no volveremos mas

inner conflict

it’s not that she doesn’t think things through...
it’s just that...
if in her,
love and mind would arm-wrestle together,
love would probably break mind’s arm
[and probably the table too...]

halfway

tudo o que faço ou medito
fica sempre na metade.
querendo, quero o infinito.
fazendo, nada é verdade

the lost city

- why are you unhappy?
- i’m not unhappy, i’m just Sad
- why are you Sad?
- it is in my nature
- your nature is beautiful, not sadness
- but can’t Sad be beautiful?
- Sad yes, but not sadness…

goodbye Madrid III [el canto del loco]

solamente oír tu voz
ver tu foto en blanco y negro
recorrer esa ciudad
yo ya me muero de amor
ver la vida sin reloj
y contarte mis secretos
no saber ya si besarte
o esperar que salga solo

y vivir así, yo quiero vivir así
y ni siquiera sé si sientes tú lo mismo

me desperté soñando
que estaba a tu lado
y me quedé pensando
qué tienen esas manos
sé que no es el momento
para que pase algo
quiero volverte a ver

y me siento como un niño
imaginándome contigo
como si hubiéramos ganado
por habernos conocido

esta sensación extraña
hoy se adueña de mi casa
juega con esa sonrisa
dibujándola a sus anchas

volverá

desesperándome te he buscado en mis sueños...

...in a nutshell

13 billion years ago, an unimaginable amount of energy was required to start a great explosion. soon afterwards, amid a shower of light and heat, the first atoms started to appear, and in a slow, yet amazingly fast process, spanning from the incredibly small to the incredibly huge, energy started to decay into matter forming stars, planets and galaxies.

the milky way appeared, and in the outskirts of one of its thousands “legs”, a solar system inhabited by a single star called “sun”, became home of a tiny blue planet among giants: earth, the third planet closest to the sun.

it was a quiet and silent planet, filled with water until when, 4 billion years ago, coming from the dark depths of the universe, a small planet collided with it, creating the moon and the tides: the conditions of life were set in place.

as in all amazingly beautiful things in the universe, and just 500 million years after, small micro organisms that lived in the water, started to evolve into more complex life forms. fish appeared and monstrous beasts dominated the waters. with the continuous evolution of the atmosphere, this earth started to cool down, and masses of land erupted from the waters.

life is always changing and, challenging the conditions and borders of its limitations, the beasts started to get out of the water searching for food, and in an amazing and complex evolution, huge birds and animals, started their reign in a whole and foreign new world.

but old universe, is both beautiful and treacherous, and for the second time since its birth, a dark asteroid hit the earth, killing most of its life and engulfing it in a dark and cold cloud for ages. however, some species endured, and in the wake of a new challenging era, where most of the giants have disappeared, life brought a new element: man. this frail, and seemingly weaker creature, the first [known] intelligent life form, started to look around, and made earth its home.

man’s curiosity, eagerness, and feelings were insatiable. he learned to control its surrounding, learned to live together and work together as one. roaming small tribes and gatherings started to grow, and as they discovered fire and the wheel, they managed to get healthier, to hunt and to grow food, get more nurtured, to think strategically and settling in.

its challenging, inquisitiveness spirit and restless soul, lead him to explore, to rationalize, to explain and even to try to imitate the natural events around him, fostering the evolution of science and religion. paintings and music followed short as man sough ways to express himself, to show and enjoy [or even hate] all the feelings and beauty he held in his own private universe to the likes of him.

from small scattered villages, to full empires, rich in culture, arts and science. millions of generations, passed on their legacy, trying to fit in, to find their own place and to evolve in a never ending search for godliness and perfection.

but universe and life, are always changing and surprising, and so, in a not so particular point of time, a little more than 30 years ago, either by chance or by a twist of fate, something that had been happening for thousands of years occurred: two people fell in love. and from their love a girl was born.

You were born.
…and the universe started to make sense

memories

nostalgia is a treacherous thing: it may fool us to think that things weren’t that bad [nor either that great]

goodbye Madrid II [la roleta]

the period

it was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to heaven, we were all going direct the other way – in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only

Charles Dickens in "A Tale of Two Cities"

às vezes custa-me aceitar o óbvio...

veleiro

respira fundo. e outra vez: lê os sinais. se estiveres atento e receptivo, muitas bençãos virão. hoje. [e] todos os dias (...) saibas tu identificá-las

by MIA

impressão digital

i am all the strangers i’ve met, all those who shared a moment, not to be remembered nor recalled for life, the tellers, the waiters, the doctors, and the million faces parade that march everyday in my life

i am all the women that i loved, all the smiles that lit a day, and all the tears that went away. i am all the friends that i cherished, and even those that i lost, the lifes that i borrowed, and watched, the feelings that i nurtured and those left to fade

i am my father, my mother, my brothers and sisters, and even my pets
the parties, the laughs, the pains, the lazy days, the sports, and the music

the sleep that i had, and the nights i stayed awake.
the dreams that i shared and the fears that don’t fade

i am all the experiences i lived, the paintings that touched me, the books that i read, and even the movies that inspired or bored me. the trips that fascinated me, and those that lead to nowhere.
the sights, colours, the scents and flavours, the kisses, hugs, the talks, and the walks,

the silences and the notes, the sound of a piano or a string of a guitar, the warmth of the wind or a sight of a star

i am the clothes that i wear, and even the way i comb my hair. the houses where i lived, and the cities that were there

i am no one, but i am all.
and in the figure of a boy, lost in a world full of magic to see,
look into my eyes, and you’ll just see me

tell me

aunque te veo otra vez
que hay en tus ojos, no sé
la oscuridad los ha atravesado.
pareces alguien a quien la vida no trata bien
y poco a poco su alma ha abandonado.

el dolor no se supera,
si tu corazón se cierra.
pero hay algo que has olvidado
yo estoy contigo aquí.

dímelo a mí
háblame de ti.
yo te escucharé
porque quisiera entender esa pena que sientes crecer.
dímelo a mí
qué es lo que no va bien
yo no te juzgaré.
si hay una culpa, lo sé. toda tuya no puede ser
dímelo a mí.

tu futuro lo ves
como una nave entre tormentas.
que te da miedo lo sé
pero no puedo creer
que no te queden sueños si no intentas.

lloras lágrimas amargas
todo dentro te lo guardas
pero hay algo que has olvidado
yo estoy contigo aquí.

becoming free

a dependência é uma besta,
que dá cabo do desejo
e a liberdade, uma maluca,
que sabe quanto vale um beijo

descoberta

i love to teach...

i may not have a clue to where i'm heading...

... but my heart has never been more clear

ready, aim, go

always aim for the moon.
if you miss it, you might land on the stars

William Clement Stone

waking up

ao acordar, a solidão sulcara
um vale nos cobertores e o meu corpo era de novo
um trilho abandonado na paisagem. sentei-me na cama

repeti devagar o teu nome, o nome dos meus sonhos,
mas as sílabas caíam no fim das palavras, a dor esgota
as forças, são frios os batentes nas portas da manhã

Maria do Rosário Pedreira

paths to nowhere

no matter which course you take, which path you choose to follow, in the end the only thing that is of any worth and that will fulfill you, are the lifes you touched and the people you loved

great expectations (II)

estella: let's say there was a little girl, and from the time she could understand, she was taught to fear... let's say she was taught to fear daylight. she was taught that it was her enemy, that it would hurt her. and then one sunny day, you ask her to go outside and play and she won't. you can't be angry at her can you?

finn: i knew that little girl and i saw the light in her eyes, and no matter what you say or do, that's still what i see

does your path have a heart?

you must always keep in mind that a path is only a path; if you feel you should not follow it, you must not stay with it under any conditions. to have such clarity you must lead a disciplined life. only then will you know that any path is only a path, and there is no affront, to oneself or to others, in dropping it if that is what your heart tells you to do.

but your decision to keep on the path or to leave it must be free of fear or ambition.
i warn you. look at every path closely and deliberately. try it as many times as you think necessary. then ask yourself, and yourself alone, one question.

this question is one that only a very old man asks. my benefactor told me about it once when i was young, and my blood was too vigorous for me to understand it. now i do understand it. i will tell you what it is: does this path have heart?

all paths are the same: they lead nowhere.
they are paths going through the bush, or into the bush.

in my own life i could say i have traversed long, long paths, but i am not anywhere.
my benefactor's question has meaning now. does this path have heart?

if it does, the path is good;
if it doesn't, it is of no use.
both paths lead nowhere; but one has heart, the other doesn't.
one makes for a joyful journey; as long as you follow it, you are one with it.
the other will make you curse your life.

one makes you strong; the other weakens you.

Carlos Castañeda in "the teachings of Don Juan"

quite contrary

contradictions do not exist. whenever you think that you are facing a contradiction, check your premises. you will find that one of them is wrong

Ayn Rand

moment

sometimes i go back to that magic second,
when i met your eyes, my heart skipped a beat
and the birds danced to our own soundtrack,
it was then when i knew my life would be forever changed
in that moment when i fell in love

listening

it takes a lot of time for you to learn how to listen to your heart, it requires that you leave selfishness behind, drop all your armours, masks, defences and look truthfully [and most important, humblely] to your surroundings and to the people around you.

you may be surprised with what you find
you may even realize that you knew it all along
or you might just find something new…

bliss, tears, or just the direction you needed all this time

even knowing that your heart and dreams are with someone else,
even knowing that you may never be mine,
i hear it in my heart: that i’ll love you 'til i die

to say: "I'm bored"...

... is quite an understatement

callin'

nomeei-te no meio dos meus sonhos
chamei por ti na minha solidão
troquei o céu azul pelos teus olhos
e o meu sólido chão pelo teu amor

Ruy Belo

reboot

apesar das ruínas e da morte,
onde sempre acabou cada ilusão,
a força dos meus sonhos é tão forte,
que de tudo renasce a exaltação,
e nunca a minhas mãos ficam vazias

Sophia de Mello Breyner

draft

pinto a carvão e a pincel,
borrões, marcas, manchas,
numa simples folha de papel

traço o desejo e pinto objectivos:
revelo uma estranha visão,
criada por movimentos assíncronos e desajustados
da minha mão
encho uma tela do sangue que pulsa,
ainda quente,
no meu coração.

desenho a fé, e a alma,
com tons escuros e difusos,
seguindo um mapa antigo,
que não revela o seu rumo

preencho-a com personagens libertos da razão,
reflexos e fractais de mim mesmo,
que sem se darem conta seguem o seu próprio guião,
em cenários e sonhos de uma tela de cinema

num golpe de mestria: assino.
e admiro a tela cheia de côr, sons e luz,
de sensações e expressões,
de alegrias e desesperos,
de vitórias e derrotas,

satisfeito, sorrio
afasto-me e sigo o meu caminho
deixando para trás o quadro da minha vida

speed of light

light thinks it travels faster than anything but it is wrong. no matter how fast light travels it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it

Terry Pratchet

i never felt lonely ...

... until i fallen in love

binary lifes

temos, todos [os] que vivemos,
uma vida que é vivida
e [uma] outra vida que é pensada,
e a única vida que temos
é essa que é dividida
entre a verdadeira e a errada

benjamin

for what it's worth: it's never too late (…) to be whoever you want to be.
there's no time limit, start whenever you want.

you can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing.
we can make the best or the worst of it.
i hope you make the best of it.
i hope you see things that startle you.
i hope you feel things you never felt before.
i hope you meet people who have a different point of view.

i hope you live a life you're proud of, and if you find that you're not, i hope you have the strength to start all over again

and some people.... dance

funny thing about coming home,
you notice how things look the same,
smell that same
feel the same,
people are the same,
they tell you the same stories,
and talk about the same places,
it is then that you realize
that you’ve changed

too much air conditioning...

... fosters all of swine flu paranoia [and phobia]

waiting, playing [and hoping]

certain things have to happen before other things. gods play games with the fates of men. but first they have to get all the pieces on the board, and look all over the place for the dice
(...)
time is like a drug. too much of it kills you

Terry Pratchett

goodbye Madrid I [Bernabeu]

a star is born, a wedding gift exists [thank you galileo]

lullaby

nem sombra nem luz
nem sopro de estrela
nem corpinhos nus
de anjos à janela
nem asas de pombos
nem algas no fundo
nem olhos redondos
espantados do mundo
nem vozes na ilha
nem chuva lá fora
dorme [bem] minha [menina]
que eu não vou embora

shooting star

came out to a shooting star
but she moves so fast
that i can't keep up
i'm chasing

i'm in love with a shooting star
but she moves so fast
when she falls then
i'll be waiting

it is painful having to accept that your heart is set on someone else

analyse

if i’d analyse too much the sky,
i would say that the atmosphere is about 70% of nitrogen and 30% of oxygen, which along with some other gases, create a film that scatters light, affecting mostly the longer wave length light, hence the colour blue all day long, and that when the angle of the sunlight is sharper, the shorter wave length light fills in the sky, hence the reddish and orange colours at sunrise and sunset…

if i’d analyse too much the sky,
i’d miss all its beauty, presence and spirit,
i’d never dream nor travel with the clouds in an ocean of blue
and i’d never fall in love in a sunset, nor
proclaim my vows and promises at sunrise,
committing unto a life lasting happiness

if i’d analyse too much the sky,
i’d never use my heart to guide me,
using only reason and intelligence to see,
i’d never trust nor care for anyone,
since everyone would always fail and be short on what i sought,
i'd would not allow it to touch my soul,
cleaning and closing all wounds,
and bringing hope and dreams in a new day.
i’d feel empty and hollow,
and would always fear of tomorrow

i am real

...

i need to cure my childish obsession on love...

romance is dead[?] (alternate version)

...and the girl said:
we killed romance, you and me,
when we turned our backs
to what we dont want to see,
we killed our hopes and dreams,
exchanging "can be's" by the "could have been's"
finding out that love could hurt and even die,
and then using it as an excuse to not even try


we killed romance, you and me,
thinking we're gods in a world we tame,
when we're just men and women in a much bigger game
we stopped fighting for what we earn and believe,
but started believing we deserve someone else's dream


we killed romance, you and me,
painting lifes on tales covered in dust,
growing blind to the people and stories in front of us,
we let courage and passion die out of fear,
raising a numbness we can no longer tear


the boy said:
Stop.
we are not trapped in the fates we draw:
measured in prizes we think we score.
life will bring you whatever you choose to folow
[luckily, we're not that hollow]
and if at any given time,
you think that romance is dead,
look for it in your heart
remembering that it's all in your head

home

goodbye, proud world, i'm going home,
thou'rt not my friend, and i'm not thine;
long through thy weary crowds i roam[ed];
a river-ark on the ocean brine,
long i've been tossed like the driven foam,
but [for] now, proud world, i'm going home."

Ralph Waldo Emerson

gede [n.p.m. gódê]

you know, i may be very simple but, for me, Karma is like this:
imagine you plant rice, what do you get? rice, right? imagine that you plant well, you will get many seeds for then to plant even more rice.

such is karma, whatever you seed, sooner or later you will harvest. also important to know, karma and reincarnation are together, they are one. so i may get the karma tomorrow, or only on another life time.

take for example, that girl over there. her parents wealthy. she got to go to nice school, go to college, and get good job. I am poor and need to work hard to get what i need. why is that? she is already collecting the good karma she planted in another life. i still need to plant more.

and don't forget, very, very important: karma works both ways, if you plant good, you will harvest good. if you plant bad, you will harvest bad

holidays!!!!

starting with an 18hour trip....

some people think that i don't see it coming...

... but i can see right through them.
i just choose not to show it...

her [own] words

eu sou a que no mundo anda perdida,
eu sou a que na vida não tem norte,
sou a irmã do sonho, e desta sorte
sou a crucificada ... a dolorida ...

sombra de névoa ténue e esvaecida,
e que o destino amargo, triste e forte,
impele brutalmente para a morte!
alma de luto sempre incompreendida! ...

sou aquela que passa e ninguém vê ...
sou a que chamam triste sem o ser ...
sou a que chora sem saber porquê ...

sou talvez a visão que alguém sonhou,
alguém que veio ao mundo pra me ver
e que nunca na vida me encontrou!

Florbela Espanca

under water

running against the clock...

i no longer [know if i] know what it is to feel...

dive

they say the devil's water, it ain't so sweet
you don't have to drink right now
but you can dip your feet
every once in a little while

sr. engenheiro

os olhos azul muito claros, mostravam uma ternura e um olhar curioso para um mundo onde nem sempre compreendia muitas das coisas “dos tempos modernos”, mas onde acreditava plenamente que se os valores fossem fortes, que as pessoas acabariam por fazer sempre o correcto.

simpático por natureza, metia conversa com qualquer pessoa que lhe devolvesse o sorriso, e tinha sempre o cuidado de “não ser indelicado”. no entanto, tinha um espírito reservado e era naturalmente introspectivo.

todos os que trabalharam com ele, falam do talento, da justiça e da rectidão do sr. engenheiro.

a sua desenvoltura e a capacidade de aprendizagem enormes, contribuíam para a mestria em tudo o que eram trabalhos manuais: fazer mesas, quadros, ou tapetes de arraiolos com 15 metros de comprimento que doava à igreja, eram actividades que o “ajudavam a pensar”. não gostava de viajar de avião, e por isso conheceu toda a europa de carro, com pé pesado, porque “os carros bons são para isso”.

os conselhos, histórias, e enorme sabedoria eram partilhadas numa partida de crapot, ou numa lenta tarde de domingo à frente de uma lareira com um copo grande de coca-cola na mão [que não bebia mas que tinha sempre para os netos que "gostavam dessas coisas"].

era rígido na educação dos filhos, que contrastava com episódios de carinho e piadas que contava, sempre exigindo que cada um tivesse o seu papel na família e sociedade, sempre dando o seu melhor.
apoiou a sua mulher em todos os seus projectos, e ambos deixaram uma obra de caridade e de valores que marcaram profundamente uma pequena aldeia ao lado do mar.

sempre amigo, bom com todos os que o seguiam, deixou mais de três gerações com o mais profundo carinho, respeito e admiração. quando eu mais precisei, ele esteve lá para mim.

ontem, no culminar de uma doença ingrata, degenerativa e humilhante, fechou os olhos pela última vez.
vou sentir a sua falta...

cleaning up all the mess...

... and off to the islands

exílio

i miss feeling at home

rock

when you throw a rock into the water, it will speed on the fastest course to the bottom of the water. this is how it is when siddhartha has a goal, a resolution. siddhartha does nothing, he waits, he thinks, he fasts, but he passes through the things of the world like a rock through water, without doing anything, without stirring; he is drawn, he lets himself fall. his goal attracts him, because he doesn't let anything enter his soul which might oppose the goal. this is what siddhartha has learned among the shramana.

this is what fools call magic and of which they think it would be effected by means of the daemons. nothing is effected by daemons, there are no daemons. everyone can perform magic, everyone can reach his goals, if he is able to think, if he is able to wait, if he is able to fast.

Herman Hesse in Siddharta

over the edge

when you’re thinking if you should jump off, there are times that someone just comes and pushes you over.

all of the sudden, despite the free falling, you feel free, and you know that everything is going to be alright

identity theft

just found out that someone's has been posing as myself in the internet
signing lots of things under my real name...

a small step

i think we're going to the moon because it's in the nature of the human being to face challenges.
it's by the nature of his [most] deep inner soul ...
we're required to do these things just as a salmon is to swim upstream

it suddenly struck me: that tiny pea, pretty and blue, was the Earth.
i [could] put up my thumb and shut one eye, and my thumb blotted out the [entire] planet Earth.

i didn't feel like a giant.
i felt very, very small.

Neil Armstrong

às vezes

às vezes, o fim de tudo anuncia um começo
[mesmo que seja difícil ter os olhos e o coração claros]

às vezes, o fim de tudo anuncia uma chegada
[uma etapa terminada, uma evolução: uma verdade inesgotável que fica para trás]

às vezes, o fim de tudo é escuro
[um manto de verdades mal contadas: espelhos côncavos de todas as ilusões]

às vezes, o fim de tudo é claro
[uma luz, uma presença, liberta todas as negações]

às vezes, o fim de tudo é apenas uma partida que alguém esqueceu de nos avisar
[, às vezes, o fim de tudo é simplesmente um até já]

crossroads of fate

o destino de alguns foi desenhado por gigantes que pensavam que todos somos iguais

spaceman

well now i'm back at home and-
i’m looking forward to this life i live;
you know it's gonna haunt me,
so hesitation to this life i give.
you think you might cross over,
you caught between the devil and the deep blue sea;
you better look it over,
before you make that leap!

and you know i'm fine, but i hear those voices at night
sometimes... they justify my claim,
and the public don’t dwell on my transmission
'cause it wasn’t televised...

but, it was a turning point,
oh what a lonely night!

the star maker says, "it ain't so bad"
the dream maker's gonna make you mad
the spaceman says, "everybody look down!
its all in your mind!"

it's all in my mind...

amostra sem valor

eu sei que o meu desespero não interessa a ninguém.
cada um tem o seu: pessoal e intransmissível:
[e] com ele se entretém e se julga intangível.

eu sei que a humanidade é mais gente do que eu,
sei que o mundo é maior do que o bairro onde habito,
que o respirar de um só, mesmo que seja o meu,
não pesa num total que tende para infinito.

eu sei que as dimensões impiedosas da vida
ignoram todo o homem, dissolvem-no, e, contudo,
nesta insignificância, gratuita e desvalida,
[o] Universo sou eu, com nebulosas e tudo.

António Gedeão

beginning

in the beginning the Universe was created. this has made a lot of people very angry and is widely regarded as a bad move

Douglas Adams

SHIUUUU

o meu maior medo é que tenha um desastre grave e niguém se aperceba durante dias [e que nunca percebas o que realmente sinto por ti]

waiting

sê paciente; espera

que a palavra amadureça

e se desprenda como um fruto

ao passar o vento que a mereça

Eugénio de Andrade

simple

i don’t need you to win a Nobel prize, able to discuss and reveal the most amazing, dark and deep secrets of the universe,

i don’t need you to be miss universe, the entire world falling in awe whenever you pass by, being every little girl dream and every man object of desire

i don’t need you to be miss congeniality, the nicest person on earth and the most amazing hostess there is, making everyone around feeling great

i don’t need you to be a Aphrodite, the most sensual woman, knowing your craft and turning me to ashes with passion and desire

i don’t need you to be a saint, a perfect example of purity and virtue, not having any human flaw and being the most generous and selfless person

i don’t need you to be an adventurer, exploring all corners of the world, always willing to engage in a new experience, to unravel the jungles of south America, escalate the icebergs of the pole or jump over the holes in the moon

i don’t need you to be a Picasso or a poet, having an extraordinary vision of the world, and, with an unending creativity, being able to communicate it through all sorts of art forms, awakening all sorts of feelings on everyone

i don’t need you to be Machiavelli, perfectly able to read and understand human nature and psychology, engage in plans on how to bend it at your will, and moving people as a master chess player

i don’t need you to be the perfect mother, always being there for your children, caring and loving them at all times, an example of dedication, yet able to allow them to grow and become the best and most solid men and women

i don’t need you to be the perfect wife, backing your husband at any time, yet challenging him, being his equal, and building the most amazing relationship

i don’t need you to be a general, always knowing your path, able to make swift and well reasoned decisions, never having doubts nor dwelling on indecision, always brave, never afraid nor showing any signs of weakness


i just want you to be you
with all the amazing things you bring to [my] life
[trying] always [to be] true

i want you to live and find out about life [by my side ]
and most importantly, i just want you to love me for who i am[, not for a dream]

i just want to be the One for you
it’s that simple

dark alley

[shut down]

wanted to say that...
wanted to see you...
wanted to feel you...

can't think...
can't talk...
can't write...

want to take your arms
get you close
smell your hair
lie down
close my eyes
sleep

human (II)

the most soul fulfilling of human strengths are selfless unconditional love and dedication: with them nothing else matters and everything is possible…

human

the most soul destructive of human weaknesses are pride and jealously:
they can corrupt even the most pure of souls, destroying all dreams and goodness on their path...

untouched [little pieces of heaven series]

hello darkness, my old friend

I've come to talk with you again
because a vision softly creeping
left its seeds while I was sleeping
and the vision that was planted in my brain
still remains
within the sound of silence

people do stupid things when they're in love...

... even if that means acting like a jerk

dustland fairytale

the dustland fairytale beginning
with just another white trash county kiss in '61.
long brown hair, and foolish eyes.
he'd look just like you'd want him to
some kind of slick chrome american prince.

blue jean serenade
moon river what you do to me.
i don't believe you.

change came in disguise of revelation, set his soul on fire.
she said she always knew he'd come around.
and the decades disappear
like sinking ships but we persevere.
god gives us hope but we still fear, we don't know.

your mind is poisoned.
castles in the sky, sit stranded, vandalized.
the drawbridge is closing.

saw cinderella in a party dress, she was looking for a nightgown.
i saw the devil wrapping up his hands, he's getting ready for the showdown.
i saw the ending where they turned the page, i threw my money and i ran away.
sent to the valley of the great divide
out where the dreams all hide.
out where the wind don't blow,
out here the good girls die.
and the sky moves slow
out here the bird don't sing
out here the field don't blow
out here the bell don't ring
out hear the bell don't ring
out here the good girls die
now cinderella don't you go to sleep, it's such a bitter form of refuge.
why don't you know the kingdoms under siege and everyone needs you
is there still magic in the midnight sun, or did you leave it back in '61?
in the cadence of a young man's eyes.
out where the dreams all hide

better times will come

este céu passará e então
teu riso descerá dos montes pelos rios
até desaguar no nosso coração

Ruy Bello

...

frozen to act [frozen to feel]

não consigo dominar este estado de ansiedade:
a pressa de chegar, p'ra não chegar tarde

não sei de que é que eu fujo, será desta solidão?
mas porque é que eu recuso quem quer dar-me a mão ?

esta insatisfação... não consigo compreender.
sempre esta sensação que estou a perder.

tenho pressa de sair, quero sentir ao chegar
[tenho] vontade de partir p'ra outro lugar

vou continuar a procurar a quem eu me quero dar
vou continuar a procurar a minha forma, o meu lugar

porque até aqui eu só:
quero ir, onde eu não vou
estou bem, onde eu não estou
quero quem não conheci,
quero quem eu nunca vi.

sleepless

fight?
everyone leaves

love?
i'm so easily replaced

dream?
there's no one to share it with

realize

take [your] time to realize
that i am on your side
[that i always will be]
that your warmth face [crashes] down on me
[that my eyes can never lie]
[and that all] this can pass you by

didn't i, didn't i tell you?
(but i can't spell it out for you,
no, it's never gonna be that simple)
no, i can't spell it out for you

[so] if you just realize what i just realized
that we'd be perfect for each other
and we'll never find another
just realize what i just realized
[that] we'd never have to wonder
if we missed out on each other,

it's not the same
no, it's never the same
if you don't feel it too…

[but] if you meet me half way
if you [could just] meet me half way
it could be the same for you
[and you’d realize you feel it too]

independently of what I say...

... my eyes always tell the truth

it hurts like hell having to lie to set you free

the paradoxical commandments

people are often unreasonable, illogical, and self-centered;

forgive them anyway.

if you are kind, people will accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives;

be kind anyway.

if you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies;

succeed anyway.

if you are honest and frank, people may cheat you;

be honest and frank anyway.

what you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight;

build anyway.

if you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous;

be happy anyway.

the good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow;

do good anyway.

give the world the best you have, and it may never be enough;
give the world the best you've got anyway. you see, in the final analysis, it is between you and God;

it was never between you and them anyway