tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-54275286155294321572024-02-19T03:26:46.933+00:00truelovetoojoaop1960@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05632147700787201831noreply@blogger.comBlogger2461125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427528615529432157.post-51541808100435260432019-08-23T14:04:00.000+01:002019-08-23T14:04:34.243+01:00Que lhe importa ?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen-Sans, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Fira Sans", "Droid Sans", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, "ヒラギノ角ゴ Pro W3", "Hiragino Kaku Gothic Pro", メイリオ, Meiryo, "MS Pゴシック", Arial, sans-serif, "Apple Color Emoji", "Segoe UI Emoji", "Segoe UI Symbol"; font-size: 16px; letter-spacing: -0.4px;"> Pina Bausch, Orphée et Eurydice </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen-Sans, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Fira Sans", "Droid Sans", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, "ヒラギノ角ゴ Pro W3", "Hiragino Kaku Gothic Pro", メイリオ, Meiryo, "MS Pゴシック", Arial, sans-serif, "Apple Color Emoji", "Segoe UI Emoji", "Segoe UI Symbol"; font-size: 16px; letter-spacing: -0.4px;"><br /></span>
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Um dia um homem de camisa vermelha cruza-se no nosso caminho<br />
gelamos, ficamos a saber que quando realmente conta<br />
estamos sozinhos, sempre estaremos sozinhos<br />
frente ao que realmente conta e não haverá repetições.<br />
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O comboio do tempo ninguém o pára,<br />
o comboio do tempo ninguém o pode parar<br />
ficamos assim indefesos e impotentes<br />
perante homens com nomes de flores e vagas de frio siberianas<br />
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As nossas muralhas sempre as fizemos reforçadas,<br />
sempre as construímos da melhor pedra, largos fossos cavámos<br />
estudámos o território, erguemos nossas defesas onde melhor nos pareceu<br />
mas que podem muralhas contra o vento, contra o frio glacial ?<br />
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Caem as folhas secas, amarelas e quebradiças<br />
assim nossos corações tolhidos dentro dos nossos peitos.<br />
Fitamos a manhã e perguntamos, em vez de muralhas<br />
em vez de fossos, não deveríamos antes ter cavado abraços ?<br />
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Nossos filhos, nossos filhos<br />
vivem vidas independentes, está bem assim, está bem assim<br />
é justo e como deve de ser.<br />
O homem da camisa vermelha fita-nos e segue, nunca nos viu antes.<br />
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Que lhe importa ?<br />
<br />joaop1960@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05632147700787201831noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427528615529432157.post-27852518592530810362019-08-21T14:08:00.003+01:002019-08-21T14:08:45.706+01:00Mudar o mundo para José Gomes Ferreira, poeta<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVXciA4q0w7liiwA1SeZKFpjM7chz96IUsBdyssQIWUeLjfINEMXgEue27FJy3_g8JUTQE7tNAtexjuELylRu_38xSBbrcdx0V-r5_Uo3uGkFlB9j8J-8K1L3Pw4koBjRaAJ2ust-ZB8o/s1600/2826.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1600" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVXciA4q0w7liiwA1SeZKFpjM7chz96IUsBdyssQIWUeLjfINEMXgEue27FJy3_g8JUTQE7tNAtexjuELylRu_38xSBbrcdx0V-r5_Uo3uGkFlB9j8J-8K1L3Pw4koBjRaAJ2ust-ZB8o/s320/2826.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Gaza City</h2>
Young Palestinian amputees play on the beach</div>
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Photograph: Mahmud Hams/AFP/Getty Images</div>
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Mudar o mundo ou como dizia o poeta falando de um seu hipotético filho, aos dezoito anos todos deveremos querer mudar o mundo.<br />
Os melhores contudo, querem sempre melhorar o mundo e passo a passo, gesto a gesto, vão trabalhando nesse sentido.<br />
Até pode ser só um projecto de book crossing no sítio onde vives...<br />
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DEVIA MORRER-SE DE OUTRA MANEIRA</div>
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<a href="https://www.escritas.org/pt/t/1609/devia-morrer-se-de-outra-maneira" style="background-color: gainsboro; box-sizing: border-box; color: black; font-family: Quicksand; font-size: 20px; text-decoration-line: none;"></a><br />
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Devia morrer-se de outra maneira.<br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Quicksand; font-size: 20px;" />Transformarmo-nos em fumo, por exemplo.<br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Quicksand; font-size: 20px;" />Ou em nuvens.<br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Quicksand; font-size: 20px;" />Quando nos sentíssemos cansados, fartos do mesmo sol<br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Quicksand; font-size: 20px;" />a fingir de novo todas as manhãs, convocaríamos<br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Quicksand; font-size: 20px;" />os amigos mais íntimos com um cartão de convite<br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Quicksand; font-size: 20px;" />para o ritual do Grande Desfazer: "Fulano de tal comunica<br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Quicksand; font-size: 20px;" />a V. Exa. que vai transformar-se em nuvem hoje<br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Quicksand; font-size: 20px;" />às 9 horas. Traje de passeio".<br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Quicksand; font-size: 20px;" />E então, solenemente, com passos de reter tempo, fatos<br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Quicksand; font-size: 20px;" />escuros, olhos de lua de cerimônia, viríamos todos assistir<br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Quicksand; font-size: 20px;" />a despedida.<br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Quicksand; font-size: 20px;" />Apertos de mãos quentes. Ternura de calafrio.<br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Quicksand; font-size: 20px;" />"Adeus! Adeus!"<br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Quicksand; font-size: 20px;" />E, pouco a pouco, devagarinho, sem sofrimento,<br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Quicksand; font-size: 20px;" />numa lassidão de arrancar raízes...<br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Quicksand; font-size: 20px;" />(primeiro, os olhos... em seguida, os lábios... depois os cabelos... )<br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Quicksand; font-size: 20px;" />a carne, em vez de apodrecer, começaria a transfigurar-se<br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Quicksand; font-size: 20px;" />em fumo... tão leve... tão sutil... tão pòlen...<br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Quicksand; font-size: 20px;" />como aquela nuvem além (vêem?) — nesta tarde de outono<br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Quicksand; font-size: 20px;" />ainda tocada por um vento de lábios azuis...</div>
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<span style="background-color: gainsboro; font-size: 14px; text-align: center;">José Gomes Ferreira </span></div>
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joaop1960@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05632147700787201831noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427528615529432157.post-19426472772217910432019-08-16T14:42:00.000+01:002019-08-16T14:42:07.513+01:00Todos os dias se aprende algo - conversa de café<br />
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É uma cidade cheia de turistas, onde os visitantes ocasionais competem com os poucos moradores e os muitos que comutam diariamente da periferia para lá trabalhar...<br />
Nos bairros mais tradicionais, com menos centros de negócio, os moradores a maioria já muito idosos convive com os turistas ou visitantes ocasionais...<br />
É um pequeno café, mantido pelo dono, um homem jovem e uma empregada que o apoia com a cozinha...O dono, o sr. Miguel trata todos os clientes habituais pelo nome, tenta estabelecer ligações entre eles, recebe os turistas com um sorriso, umas palavras de francês ou inglês e assim revela a verdadeira vocação da cidade : aproximar povos, criar relações entre pessoas.<br />
Tem sido assim ao longo dos séculos e agora a cidade vibra cheia de gente, após anos de agonia, perdendo habitantes e com poucos visitantes, neste momento aproveita a crista de uma onda e a relativa pacatez do meio é atraente para quem vem de fora e procura conforto e segurança, num ambiente ainda com alguma especificidade local.<br />
Da minha mesa ao fundo junto à cozinha, vou observando os que chegam, os que estão, os movimentos do dono, tecendo as suas teias...O senhor brasileiro com ar respeitável conversa com uma antiga habitante do bairro, trocam experiências, ela vai tentando fornecer sugestões úteis ao recém-chegado, obtém o preço do seu aluguer, sugere-lhe uma outra opção para habitar, não sabemos se interessada ou desinteressadamente, entretanto ele acaba o prato do almoço e o dono atento, logo lhe diz : " Vai um doce, Sr. Paulo ? Temos uma tarte de amêndoa muito boa e muito fresca...".<br />
O sr. Paulo responde intrigado : "Tarte, tarte ?..."<br />
O sr. Miguel solícito e atento esclarece : " Ah, pois para vocês doce é torta, mas aqui a estes espalmados, redondos chamamos nós, tarte !".<br />
"Pois sim, sr. Miguel venha de lá essa tarte ".<br />
Deliciado já, vira-se para a vizinha e diz : "Tarte, já aprendi uma coisa nova hoje...Todos os dias se aprende algo !".<br />
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<br />joaop1960@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05632147700787201831noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427528615529432157.post-431583910995313562019-08-08T10:50:00.003+01:002019-08-08T10:50:20.025+01:00Famílias<i style="background-color: rgba(250, 250, 250, 0.7); color: #333333; font-family: Alegreya, Garamond, Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 15px;"> “Todas as famílias felizes são iguais. As infelizes o são cada uma à sua maneira”.</i><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(250, 250, 250, 0.7); color: #333333; font-family: Alegreya, Garamond, Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 15px;"> Liev Tolstoy a abrir </span><span style="background-color: rgba(250, 250, 250, 0.7); color: #333333; font-family: Alegreya, Garamond, Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 15px;">Anna Karenina</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(250, 250, 250, 0.7); color: #333333; font-family: Alegreya, Garamond, Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 15px;"><br /></span>joaop1960@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05632147700787201831noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427528615529432157.post-61601411038995067452019-07-31T16:17:00.002+01:002019-07-31T16:17:37.961+01:00seems like a really nice guy...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://www.amortowles.com/" target="_blank">Amor Towles</a><br />
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<a href="https://youtu.be/hkwdkUXQ1yo" target="_blank">um pouco de Frank</a><br />
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<br />joaop1960@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05632147700787201831noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427528615529432157.post-866742393063659092019-04-02T15:06:00.001+01:002019-04-02T15:06:34.356+01:00Ithaka<div class="o-vr o-vr_12x" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-family: adobe-garamond-pro; font-size: 22px; margin: 0px 0px 60px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
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<span class="c-txt c-txt_attribution" style="border: 0px; color: #494949; display: inline-block; font-family: canada-type-gibson; font-size: 0.875rem; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; letter-spacing: 1.4px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-transform: uppercase; vertical-align: baseline;">BY <a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/c-p-cavafy" style="border: 0px; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: color 250ms cubic-bezier(0.215, 0.61, 0.355, 1) 0s; vertical-align: baseline;">C. P. CAVAFY</a></span></div>
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<span class="c-txt c-txt_attribution" style="border: 0px; color: #494949; display: inline-block; font-family: canada-type-gibson; font-size: 0.875rem; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; letter-spacing: 1.4px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-transform: uppercase; vertical-align: baseline;">TRANSLATED BY EDMUND KEELEY</span></div>
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As you set out for Ithaka</div>
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hope your road is a long one,</div>
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full of adventure, full of discovery.</div>
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Laistrygonians, Cyclops,</div>
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angry Poseidon—don’t be afraid of them:</div>
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you’ll never find things like that on your way</div>
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as long as you keep your thoughts raised high,</div>
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as long as a rare excitement</div>
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stirs your spirit and your body.</div>
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Laistrygonians, Cyclops,</div>
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wild Poseidon—you won’t encounter them</div>
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unless you bring them along inside your soul,</div>
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unless your soul sets them up in front of you.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Hope your road is a long one.</div>
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May there be many summer mornings when,</div>
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with what pleasure, what joy,</div>
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you enter harbors you’re seeing for the first time;</div>
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may you stop at Phoenician trading stations</div>
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to buy fine things,</div>
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mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,</div>
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sensual perfume of every kind—</div>
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as many sensual perfumes as you can;</div>
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and may you visit many Egyptian cities</div>
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to learn and go on learning from their scholars.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Keep Ithaka always in your mind.</div>
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Arriving there is what you’re destined for.</div>
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But don’t hurry the journey at all.</div>
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Better if it lasts for years,</div>
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so you’re old by the time you reach the island,</div>
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wealthy with all you’ve gained on the way,</div>
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not expecting Ithaka to make you rich.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Ithaka gave you the marvelous journey.</div>
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Without her you wouldn't have set out.</div>
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She has nothing left to give you now.</div>
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<br /></div>
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And if you find her poor, Ithaka won’t have fooled you.</div>
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Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,</div>
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you’ll have understood by then what these Ithakas mean.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<div class="o-grid-col o-grid-col_10of12" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; float: left; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative; vertical-align: baseline; width: 638.362px;">
<div class="o-vr_2x" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px 0px 10px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span class="c-txt c-txt_note c-txt_note_mini" style="border: 0px; color: #767676; display: inline-block; font-family: canada-type-gibson; font-size: 0.9375rem; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 1.3; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">C. P. Cavafy, "The City" from<em style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"> C.P. Cavafy: Collected Poems. </em>Translated by Edmund Keeley and Philip Sherrard. Translation Copyright © 1975, 1992 by Edmund Keeley and Philip Sherrard. Reproduced with permission of Princeton University Press.</span></div>
<div class="o-vr o-vr_2x" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px 0px 10px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span class="c-txt c-txt_note c-txt_note_mini" style="border: 0px; color: #767676; display: inline-block; font-family: canada-type-gibson; font-size: 0.9375rem; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 1.3; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Source: <em style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">C.P. Cavafy: Collected Poems</em> (Princeton University Press, 1975)</span></div>
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joaop1960@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05632147700787201831noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427528615529432157.post-30714080810153617372019-01-08T13:40:00.002+00:002019-01-08T13:40:54.590+00:00on being human...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-weight: 700;">(duas imagens retiradas da Internet)</span></div>
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<span style="font-weight: 700;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-weight: 700;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-weight: 700;">A Raposa e as Uvas (Esopo)</span></div>
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<span style="font-weight: 700;"><br /></span></div>
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Morta de fome, uma raposa foi até um vinhedo sabendo que ia encontrar muita uva. A safra havia sido excelente. Ao ver a parreira carregada de cachos enormes, a raposa lambeu os beiços. Só que sua alegria durou pouco: por mais que tentasse, não conseguia alcançar as uvas. Por fim, cansada de tantos esforços inúteis, resolveu ir embora, dizendo:</div>
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– Por mim, quem quiser essas uvas pode levar. Estão verdes, estão azedas, não me servem. Se alguém me desse essas uvas, eu não comeria.</div>
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</div>
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<i>Moral: Desprezar o que não se consegue conquistar é fácil.</i></div>
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</div>
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–</div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-weight: 700;">A Raposa e as Uvas (La Fontaine)</span></div>
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<span style="font-weight: 700;"><br /></span></div>
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Certa raposa matreira,</div>
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que andava à toa e faminta,</div>
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ao passar por uma quinta,</div>
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viu no alto da parreira</div>
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um cacho de uvas maduras,</div>
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sumarentas e vermelhas.</div>
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Ah, se pudesse tragar!</div>
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Mas lá naquelas alturas</div>
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não podia alcançar.</div>
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Então falou despeitada:</div>
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– Estão verdes essas uvas.</div>
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Verdes não servem para nada!</div>
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<i>Como não cabem quatro mãos em luvas,</i></div>
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<i>há quem prefira desdenhar a lamentar.</i></div>
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<i>- </i><span class="cat-links" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-transform: lowercase; vertical-align: baseline;">postado em <a href="https://blogdalaila.wordpress.com/category/vamos-brincar-de-ler/" rel="category tag" style="border: 0px; color: #ff8f85; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration-line: none; text-transform: none; transition: all 0.3s linear 0s; vertical-align: baseline;">Vamos brincar de ler?</a> </span><span style="text-transform: lowercase;"></span><span class="byline" style="border: 0px; display: inline; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-transform: lowercase; vertical-align: baseline;">por <span class="author vcard" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><a class="url fn n" href="https://blogdalaila.wordpress.com/author/lailamartinsco/" rel="author" style="border: 0px; color: #ff8f85; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration-line: none; text-transform: none; transition: all 0.3s linear 0s; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Ver todos os artigos de Laila Có">Laila Có</a></span></span></div>
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joaop1960@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05632147700787201831noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427528615529432157.post-64336560638537264292018-11-05T16:27:00.002+00:002018-11-05T16:27:42.996+00:00Subtil<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
Subtil pode ser o vento,<br />
leve como uma aragem<br />
subtil pode ser o mar,<br />
suave como uma carícia.<br />
<br />
Por estes dias levanta-se uma névoa da terra,<br />
enche os vales e esconde as luzes<br />
apressa o cair da noite e com um arrepio<br />
estuga-nos o passo.<br />
Entre muros antigos<br />
vamos rente ao musgo reluzente<br />
no céu estremece uma pequena estrela<br />
no silêncio do entardecer<br />
ecoa o ruído dos nossos passos.<br />
<br />
Parecemos sozinhos no mundo e nesta quietude<br />
uma certeza nos vence :<br />
- Tudo muda, tudo muda.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEDgWm1Jw6EaSnT1AJMVktp3ZrswYDr0mLq8xBE4SxO_llwZ0PJ6rAD8wd4Zz1IBRh_2ILuLo9jh8Ag7JJprXwWP1H204epDk9KCf80-i8HFH0QMHdmKa-vERhSvPv3Z_-jibnxd4xNtg/s1600/20181104_153901-02.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="952" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEDgWm1Jw6EaSnT1AJMVktp3ZrswYDr0mLq8xBE4SxO_llwZ0PJ6rAD8wd4Zz1IBRh_2ILuLo9jh8Ag7JJprXwWP1H204epDk9KCf80-i8HFH0QMHdmKa-vERhSvPv3Z_-jibnxd4xNtg/s320/20181104_153901-02.jpeg" width="190" /></a></div>
joaop1960@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05632147700787201831noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427528615529432157.post-60698135191285881492018-09-18T12:29:00.002+01:002018-09-18T12:29:24.162+01:00This boy and this girl who gather us here today<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtWZqk6HBVgA6Dx6ZCvzNBcFQJl71Zh0qYzsZazCmgfTGk4TsLWO9jOdyN3ClZIHdEKeK7LOliRAdWXr14rvvoTSiF3pFOJnbLrvn0lg8vokgNI7u0PfEOMg-SA9_jsLYsqdG0eKhqRrk/s1600/untitled.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="989" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtWZqk6HBVgA6Dx6ZCvzNBcFQJl71Zh0qYzsZazCmgfTGk4TsLWO9jOdyN3ClZIHdEKeK7LOliRAdWXr14rvvoTSiF3pFOJnbLrvn0lg8vokgNI7u0PfEOMg-SA9_jsLYsqdG0eKhqRrk/s1600/untitled.png" /></a></div>
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<br /><br />
<br /><br />
This boy and this girl who gather us here today<br />
<br /><br />
Our stories are simple and easy to tell -<br />we shared paths, one day exchanged glances,<br />smiled and held hands,<br />that simple are our stories.<br />
<br /><br />
A boy and a girl holding hands,<br />gather us here today, show us tenderness<br />we know change - we feel it,<br />we feel that love is the force that moves,<br />moves the World.<br />
<br /><br />
A simple story,<br />always happening, easy to tell,<br />one day, at school, one look a smile,<br />hand in hand open hearts<br />we left for the big wide world,<br />love and hope in the luggage.<br />
<br /><br />
This boy this girl<br />change the world and change<br />this boy this girl<br />they will leave here, hand in hand,<br />
<br /><br />
this man and this woman.joaop1960@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05632147700787201831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427528615529432157.post-67147725547283387902018-09-18T12:22:00.002+01:002018-09-18T12:23:52.752+01:00Este rapaz e esta rapariga que hoje nos juntam aqui<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNqEmjIOnqoEL9O_kGPdYmDr7WBl-5GXMaJGdX3miCUZNtDmxK2CYtKyxBRHC8gPpBzVkLGo8aG50YY4aM0qwsB-sN6xoEeIn3_KB625N37Dhq98tv2JY87lPHKNjgL2T34z_LmAzD_gE/s1600/untitled.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="989" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNqEmjIOnqoEL9O_kGPdYmDr7WBl-5GXMaJGdX3miCUZNtDmxK2CYtKyxBRHC8gPpBzVkLGo8aG50YY4aM0qwsB-sN6xoEeIn3_KB625N37Dhq98tv2JY87lPHKNjgL2T34z_LmAzD_gE/s1600/untitled.png" /></a></div>
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<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Este rapaz e esta rapariga que hoje nos juntam aqui<br />
<br /><br />
<br />
<br />
As nossas histórias são simples e fáceis de contar -<br />
partilhamos caminhos e um dia trocamos olhares,<br />
sorrimos e damos as mãos,<br />
são assim simples as nossas histórias.<br />
<br /><br />
<br />
<br />
Um rapaz e uma rapariga de mãos dadas,<br />
juntam-nos aqui e põe-nos a falar de ternura, de mudança e sentimos,<br />
sentimos que o amor é a força que move<br />
O Mundo.<br />
<br /><br />
<br />
<br />
Uma história simples,<br />
está sempre a acontecer - é fácil de contar,<br />
um dia, na escola, um olhar um sorriso,<br />
mãos dadas e corações abertos,<br />
já se está a partir para o mundo,<br />
amor e esperança na bagagem<br />
<br /><br />
<br />
<br />
Este rapaz, esta rapariga<br />
mudam o mundo e mudam<br />
este rapaz esta rapariga<br />
saem daqui de mãos dadas,<br />
<br /><br />
<br />
este homem e esta mulher.joaop1960@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05632147700787201831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427528615529432157.post-54664769258247068842018-09-10T16:54:00.002+01:002018-09-10T16:54:35.452+01:00Espavento (ou o pequeno grande líder)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJUjPpCKVK7sCtBSRlP7rO152ED9z_LMzOOtwDbPFagApCPlr4cfzNb_npwplGf-I3aPPXqycki5_ctT07vwNvZ5UE2sUMb5RRPPLdETfl_ttd855kOh93kVjC_JHuh74HiHdR2Mb_4UQ/s1600/20180910_081801.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJUjPpCKVK7sCtBSRlP7rO152ED9z_LMzOOtwDbPFagApCPlr4cfzNb_npwplGf-I3aPPXqycki5_ctT07vwNvZ5UE2sUMb5RRPPLdETfl_ttd855kOh93kVjC_JHuh74HiHdR2Mb_4UQ/s320/20180910_081801.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Ao subir a rua<br />
cruzo-me com um pequeno homem de conceitos grandes.<br />
<br />
Manhã cedo tinha saído para o rio, o Max a meu lado,<br />
nascia o sol sem aparato,<br />
silencioso e subtil, caloroso na outra margem<br />
<br />
Rio e sol, fazendo as suas coisas<br />
sem as quais o mundo não seguiria,<br />
gritos só dos pássaros, fazendo rápidas as suas vidas.<br />
<br />
Espavento.joaop1960@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05632147700787201831noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427528615529432157.post-15020476597511753362018-07-05T18:16:00.003+01:002018-07-05T18:16:45.577+01:00Não fazes nada...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuc65HGN5h6OTnddaD1ZzFD2OyqZgoNo_Vj9X_E8QZycLHvOt8RAuuxbvjEG6mA_NrFZ1MSemsEJ1CopBawXmfA1a4jR67TBgKy3wAvyk7OFO6QkKHkd8K8dUPzSqmEnTgAz4cuspzPro/s1600/IMG_5208.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuc65HGN5h6OTnddaD1ZzFD2OyqZgoNo_Vj9X_E8QZycLHvOt8RAuuxbvjEG6mA_NrFZ1MSemsEJ1CopBawXmfA1a4jR67TBgKy3wAvyk7OFO6QkKHkd8K8dUPzSqmEnTgAz4cuspzPro/s320/IMG_5208.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
"- Não fazes nada...e eu sou uma fotocópia de ti."<br />
<br />
Maldita droga, maldita droga<br />
atiraram-me do alto do viaduto para a linha dos comboios<br />
tive muita sorte, dizem<br />
em não ter morrido, dizem.<br />
<br />
Maldita droga, maldita droga<br />
todos os dias iguais, vazios uns atrás dos outros -<br />
como fotocópias...todos os dias sentar-se à mesa<br />
nunca ter trabalhado para pôr a comida no prato<br />
todos os dias iguais, vazios uns atrás dos outros -<br />
como fotocópias...papel por imprimir, filme por expor.<br />
<br />
...às vezes Portugal joga.<br />
<br />
<br />
(Há dias ouvi alguém dirigir-se a outrem assim, como está escrito acima.<br />
Pensei nos muitos que vi perder a vida por dependências várias e nos que ainda sobrevivem com as cicatrizes indeléveis desses anos de chumbo. Acto contínuo surgiram-me "os versos" que alinho acima.)joaop1960@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05632147700787201831noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427528615529432157.post-8688681812886752482018-06-22T14:04:00.001+01:002018-06-22T14:04:17.359+01:00o rio sem fotografia...Diariamente caminho com o meu cão pela margem do rio lá da terra, com um telemóvel registo imagens : do rio, do céu - um registo visual diário da vida que acontece e passa.<br />
Ontem não saí de manhã porque chovia intensamente na altura e não me tinha preparado para a chuva, hoje já no local, quando peguei no telemóvel para tentar fotografar, deparei com a falta de bateria do mesmo.<br />
Na falta de imagens, aqui vos deixo o que vi...quando abrando para pegar no telemóvel e fazer a toma das imagens, o Max abranda também e sabe que eu vou ficar um pouco por ali, habituou-se já a esperar, é a colaboração dele para este projecto meu...retomando o que vi : hoje não havia vento e o rio era um espelho, depois da chuva e das trovoadas o ar estava limpo e leve.<br />
Havia nuvens no céu que escondiam o sol, deste viam-se raios descendo sobre a terra, rompendo por entre as nuvens. A placidez do rio, as cores frescas da manhã, um pequeno barco no meio do rio com gente à pesca, completavam o conjunto.<br />
Teriam sido fotos bonitas...talvez amanhã, talvez amanhã.joaop1960@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05632147700787201831noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427528615529432157.post-23681544351995042572018-05-17T14:30:00.000+01:002018-05-17T14:30:16.545+01:00"tudo o que é sólido se dissolve no ar..."O que se passa connosco e com os nossos heróis quando passamos pelos quiosques de jornais e deixamos para trás revistas com ídolos nossos na capa ?<br />
<br />
(<a href="https://www.vanityfair.fr/culture/voir-lire/story/exclusif-les-lettres-de-simone-de-beauvoir-ultimes-lecons-de-feminisme-et-damour/1881#1">A edição francesa da Vanity Fair tem uma capa com a Simone de Beauvoir</a>, supostamente por ocasião da publicação de algumas cartas suas...).<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuS_kBdkfvFaZHQ59ZckdbF6UYRB_ODPKKETxjriW0T_Cjz6rXKiz7sT5di_ESW-iJxOFeklaZm3rqWciAb65P-86Clo1mEDFd2oMOhL_M_WtaEMt1LoMXV1bBLXtC8fpQaZCYWRhbsMk/s1600/simonedebeauvoir3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="315" data-original-width="600" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuS_kBdkfvFaZHQ59ZckdbF6UYRB_ODPKKETxjriW0T_Cjz6rXKiz7sT5di_ESW-iJxOFeklaZm3rqWciAb65P-86Clo1mEDFd2oMOhL_M_WtaEMt1LoMXV1bBLXtC8fpQaZCYWRhbsMk/s320/simonedebeauvoir3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/%3Ciframe%20src=%22https://open.spotify.com/embed/track/4p0UoEtE573xvUQclWvJoU%22%20width=%22300%22%20height=%22380%22%20frameborder=%220%22%20allowtransparency=%22true%22%20allow=%22encrypted-media%22%3E%3C/iframe%3E">o que sobra de nós ?</a><br />
<br />
*não consigo identificar o autor ou a origem da fotografia...joaop1960@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05632147700787201831noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427528615529432157.post-15434197664963390952018-05-15T14:59:00.003+01:002018-05-15T14:59:33.808+01:00Outono<br /><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=50zL8TnMBN8">Ella & Louis live, autumn in NYC</a><br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk3Zxw3XgaLuh8VnfT73bzOQhZssB52l1NtgaXIz8pm3OxduYYhwHAo9rDJaNlPVEHr7qkbAfAzBnUGiTqFYXbZFnEoG7SJAI2U_GREwzy_IsweMbRgnOtc6kgC58zoUvEGt6sK88X8ng/s1600/20160613_130838_001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk3Zxw3XgaLuh8VnfT73bzOQhZssB52l1NtgaXIz8pm3OxduYYhwHAo9rDJaNlPVEHr7qkbAfAzBnUGiTqFYXbZFnEoG7SJAI2U_GREwzy_IsweMbRgnOtc6kgC58zoUvEGt6sK88X8ng/s320/20160613_130838_001.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Tenho vindo a reparar que cada vez mais me despeço ou saúdo as pessoas com um : "Saúde !".<br />
Serão os anos a pesar e a influenciar cada vez mais as preocupações imediatas ?<br />
É pelo menos um indício...joaop1960@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05632147700787201831noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427528615529432157.post-41073093218869421032018-05-11T10:03:00.000+01:002018-05-11T10:03:07.774+01:00Elis e a solução dos problemas<br /><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QijqW6PbfgI">Elis, Madalena ao vivo</a><br />
<br />
<br />
"A solução encontra-se sempre no problema."<br />
Zeza<br />
<br />
Vi recentemente um <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt4875150/">filme biográfico sobre Elis Regina</a>, que fascina pela energia vibrante da protagonista e não desmerece o legado musical da grande cantora brasileira, antes o promove.<br />
<br />
Não pude contudo deixar de pensar nesta ficção, baseada em pessoas e acontecimentos reais, à luz da frase da minha amiga Zeza, que cito acima.<br />
Atrevo-me a dizer que a solução e o problema são sempre coisas diferentes, usando uma visão dialéctica diremos que o problema se transforma e daí pode resultar a solução, mas será já uma nova coisa.<br />
Pode eventualmente ser um novo problema e é assim que é a vida, cada coisa vai-se transformando numa nova coisa. Uma pessoa adoece e diz-se uma nova pessoa após ultrapassar a doença, isto porque mudou a sua vida.<br />
Mudaram talvez os seus hábitos de vida - alimentares, de sociabilidade, de exercício...tudo isto fez dele um outro homem, dela uma outra mulher, com outros interesses, outra atenção.<br />
Aplicado a Elis Regina e ao seu imenso talento, é como se a solução para o seu intenso brilho, foi fixá-lo no momento de fulgor e deixá-lo assim para sempre, para usufruto de todos.<br />
O ambiente claustrofóbico do Brasil, mesmo do mundo naquele tempo, só trariam amargura para a personagem, os seus dotes inevitavelmente desmereceriam com o passar dos anos e assim cumpriu-se um destino, partilhado com outras estrelas que também nos deixaram no zénite das suas capacidades, quando tudo o que se fez brilha como os metais preciosos e raros : "live fast, die young".<br />
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Há soluções que nos enchem de tristeza e sofrimento, há soluções que nos doem. A vida não pára e o mundo é composto de mudança. Assim somos nós na face dos problemas.<br />
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joaop1960@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05632147700787201831noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427528615529432157.post-21735890003654394992018-05-03T12:00:00.000+01:002018-05-03T12:00:27.322+01:00Flores do monte, inicio de Maio, cerca de Arruda dos Vinhos<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />joaop1960@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05632147700787201831noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427528615529432157.post-77163375277869052212018-02-27T09:43:00.003+00:002018-02-27T09:43:50.052+00:00Don’t worry about the NRA<a href="https://www.wired.com/2016/06/ar-15-can-human-body/">what can an AR-15 do to a human body</a><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #313132; font-family: freight-book, serif; font-size: 18px;">“Don’t worry about the NRA. They’re on our side,” Trump told more than 35 governors, including Rick Scott of Florida, during a White House meeting.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #313132; font-family: freight-book, serif; font-size: 18px;"><a href="https://edition.cnn.com/2018/02/15/us/florida-shooting-victims-school/index.html">florida-shooting-victims-school</a></span><br />
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PS: I've close relatives living in the USAjoaop1960@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05632147700787201831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427528615529432157.post-3455176300991171432018-02-21T14:41:00.003+00:002018-02-21T14:41:47.705+00:00Oh superman<a href="https://bowiesongs.wordpress.com/2013/09/12/o-superman/">read this, watch this</a><br />
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<br />joaop1960@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05632147700787201831noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427528615529432157.post-34088201711114016922018-02-02T11:31:00.000+00:002018-02-02T11:31:48.581+00:00bom dia<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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sopra forte o vento,</div>
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gritam as gaivotas,</div>
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corre célere o Tejo para o mar</div>
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os homens saem para o trabalho </div>
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dizendo bons dias estremunhados</div>
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nas cabeças riscos ao lado acabadinhos de fazer</div>
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dentro das casas as mães tiram os filhos da cama</div>
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apertam-nos contra peito e dizem :</div>
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- Está tanto frio, meu amor pequenino</div>
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no alto</div>
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calada sobre tudo isto</div>
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retira-se a lua de mansinho </div>
joaop1960@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05632147700787201831noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427528615529432157.post-76761494805668449832018-01-23T15:05:00.000+00:002018-01-23T15:05:36.871+00:00Mário Centeno a tocar um sino<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Estava a ser um dia daqueles...só pessoas famosas se cruzavam comigo, ora era uma moça da telenovela da noite, ora era a Laurin Hyll...o Metro veio como habitualmente, mas parecia avançar sobre rodas quadradas e tudo abanava de uma forma estranha, as luzes tremeluziam.<br />
Um sujeito barbudo levantou-se e começou a falar sobre a alegoria da caverna do Platão, uma vozinha vinda do fundo da carruagem repetia :<br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oA8UEWLUkd0">- Oh, estou tão preocupada, tão preocupada..</a>.<br />
Isto não parecia augurar nada de bom e ao fundo do túnel um sujeito parecido, não !...Era, era mesmo o Mário Centeno a tocar um sino ! O Centeno a tocar um sino ao fundo do túnel.<br />
Uma voz grossa tonitruou :<br />
- Deixem-se de banalidades, toca a dispersar, tudo a andar, tudo a andar...<br />
E nós fomos, eu pelo menos fui, isto é vim...enfim...Agora está a passar o Dirk Bogarde.joaop1960@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05632147700787201831noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427528615529432157.post-55686721910121714632018-01-11T15:47:00.002+00:002018-01-11T15:47:37.852+00:00more songs about buildings and food<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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...ontem vi 20th century women e gostei...é sempre bom ouvir de novo os Talking Heads e lembrar as polémicas do passado : art fag...joaop1960@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05632147700787201831noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427528615529432157.post-24398601187971044632018-01-10T16:57:00.003+00:002018-01-10T16:57:50.034+00:00 inemuri (居眠り<b><br /></b>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPWjld4Qo-ni7SYvN18n1H12tmnmkaeJZUzCzW6R1-0Vxmw6moPvhr9sYuTLVGdLTMwhFqDckwLCmsYpMoQylrgLLG8BLZyD7R-iSY6ihx7xH-DUXQsF_dEWBgxPl-Ou-VjkoZQQ5ztD8/s1600/japanesesleep5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="307" data-original-width="400" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPWjld4Qo-ni7SYvN18n1H12tmnmkaeJZUzCzW6R1-0Vxmw6moPvhr9sYuTLVGdLTMwhFqDckwLCmsYpMoQylrgLLG8BLZyD7R-iSY6ihx7xH-DUXQsF_dEWBgxPl-Ou-VjkoZQQ5ztD8/s320/japanesesleep5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
(image found via Google search function...)<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;"> <a href="http://www.bbc.com/future/story/20160506-the-japanese-art-of-not-sleeping">Inemuri</a></span></b><br />
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<b><br /></b>joaop1960@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05632147700787201831noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427528615529432157.post-66758049484014890302018-01-10T14:12:00.001+00:002018-01-10T15:40:32.617+00:00Lollabelle<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTM1paytkY06ToK3JAxX0Tkecop9xfPUpy1fFH4_4mVohjlf1-LkhMjeLy7AKvSdNKDRgR4iboDC1U98lOaft5FLq7huDjt4XLOVQUTJwRX8Y3kFkVFNK8KJDATA-JBXdLSyDpFk-h7Bc/s1600/O%2527Keeffe_Georgia_Ram%2527s_Head.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="292" data-original-width="342" height="273" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTM1paytkY06ToK3JAxX0Tkecop9xfPUpy1fFH4_4mVohjlf1-LkhMjeLy7AKvSdNKDRgR4iboDC1U98lOaft5FLq7huDjt4XLOVQUTJwRX8Y3kFkVFNK8KJDATA-JBXdLSyDpFk-h7Bc/s320/O%2527Keeffe_Georgia_Ram%2527s_Head.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Georgia o'Keeffe, Ram's head<br />
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<strong style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Guardian Text Egyptian Web", Georgia, serif; font-variant-ligatures: common-ligatures;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4OESp5Sts4s">Grieve !</a></strong><br />
<strong style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Guardian Text Egyptian Web", Georgia, serif; font-variant-ligatures: common-ligatures;"><br /></strong>
<strong style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Guardian Text Egyptian Web", Georgia, serif; font-variant-ligatures: common-ligatures;">"What did your terrier, Lolabelle, mean to you? In the film she seems to be at once a pet, a friend and an alter ego.</strong><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "guardian text egyptian web" , "georgia" , serif;">It’s a film about empathy. Lolabelle was a character that was almost pure empathy, so I tried to express that as well as I could. She was not my best friend – I didn’t want a piano-playing dog necessarily. I wanted to find a way to help her because when she went blind, she didn’t do well at all, she panicked. This trainer said: “I taught my dogs to play piano,” and I said: “Whoah – OK!” And she said: “I think it really helps Lolabelle.” So there were concerts every day, and she was playing this stuff, and it was really a situation where music saved her life. She basically recovered her social world through music."</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "guardian text egyptian web" , "georgia" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "guardian text egyptian web" , "georgia" , serif;">found in <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/music/2016/mar/27/laurie-anderson-interview-q-and-a-heart-dog-lolabelle-terrier-brighton-festival-lou-reed-o-superman">The Guardian</a></span><br />
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(Laurie Anderson é um velho interesse meu, esta entrevista foi a propósito do seu filme e disco "Heart of a dog", como sempre deveras interessante e inspirador)joaop1960@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05632147700787201831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427528615529432157.post-26895035319495583102018-01-09T09:56:00.004+00:002018-01-09T17:22:14.852+00:00Lazarus<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi-Ejaj051MZ2a3sicEpJJZpPoUPEIv0EjdA5vONRA0UQbtcqZo5jImNMJUFw2FpKIlUh8YBgZ9Y3EzTNDSVPIVXnsBZeraZVoXz5pOK8-qlDI12uDfe8Ys-lTKzssiExxxJ_66rpPs9k/s1600/david-bowie-last-photoshoot-pictures-jimmy-king-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1373" data-original-width="915" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi-Ejaj051MZ2a3sicEpJJZpPoUPEIv0EjdA5vONRA0UQbtcqZo5jImNMJUFw2FpKIlUh8YBgZ9Y3EzTNDSVPIVXnsBZeraZVoXz5pOK8-qlDI12uDfe8Ys-lTKzssiExxxJ_66rpPs9k/s320/david-bowie-last-photoshoot-pictures-jimmy-king-1.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
(foto de David Bowie por Jimmy King)<br />
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Este <a href="https://www.blogger.com/%3Ciframe%20src=%22https://open.spotify.com/embed/track/5BebqkBndVuST8jX9UWPqI%22%20width=%22300%22%20height=%22380%22%20frameborder=%220%22%20allowtransparency=%22true%22%3E%3C/iframe%3E">homem</a> já morreu - todos sabemos isso...contudo está pleno de vida e desafio nesta foto, tirada quando já sabia, que a sua morte não estaria longe...<br />
Não sabermos o momento certo da nossa morte é uma benção, liberta-nos os sorrisos e os gestos, continuamos a negociar até à saída definitiva.<br />
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Este homem tão distante de mim, que nunca sequer vi ao vivo, não deixou de ser importante para mim.<br />
Agora o seu filho, decide perpetuar a sua memória, criando um <a href="https://www.theverge.com/2017/12/31/16836368/david-bowie-duncan-jones-online-book-club-twitter-peter-ackroyd-hawksmoor">clube de leitura</a>.<br />
Outra forma de continuar a ser importante para a vida de outros.joaop1960@gmail.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05632147700787201831noreply@blogger.com2