Paris de nuit

Brassai was such a great artist

olhos de peixe, ouvidos de tisico

Fotografo graffitis, aprendi num livro de Brassai...
(Serão os graffiti directos precursores das "walls" do Facebook e quejandos ? O Brassai sentia neles a força vital das pinturas rupestres...)

Foro

Cocina para impostores

what to do about Amy ?...

in the first U2 album, a song called "a day without me"

let's get lost

a Bruce Weber site

Fire !

Read about Cai here

there's a party in my mind

Ride my cloud

- Oh, I'm out of here, oh, I'm riding my cloud
you're such a nice people, you're such a charming crowd
but lord, I'm outta here, I'm outta here right now.

Need to ride my cloud, now that I found it,
ride my cloud follow the wind, my life to live.

Going to Heaven

GOING TO HEAVEN!

by: Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

GOING to heaven!
I don't know when,
Pray do not ask me how,--
Indeed, I'm too astonished
To think of answering you!
Going to heaven!--
How dim it sounds!
And yet it will be done
As sure as flocks go home at night
Unto the shepherd's arm!

Perhaps you're going too!
Who knows?
If you should get there first,
Save just a little place for me
Close to the two I lost!
The smallest "robe" will fit me,
And just a bit of "crown";
For you know we do not mind our dress
When we are going home.

I'm glad I don't believe it,
For it would stop my breath,
And I'd like to look a little more
At such a curious earth!
I am glad they did believe it
Whom I have never found
Since the mighty autumn afternoon
I left them in the ground.

the truth about love

O Tell Me The Truth About Love by W. H. Auden

Some say love's a little boy,
And some say it's a bird,
Some say it makes the world go around,
Some say that's absurd,
And when I asked the man next-door,
Who looked as if he knew,
His wife got very cross indeed,
And said it wouldn't do.

Does it look like a pair of pyjamas,
Or the ham in a temperance hotel?
Does its odour remind one of llamas,
Or has it a comforting smell?
Is it prickly to touch as a hedge is,
Or soft as eiderdown fluff?
Is it sharp or quite smooth at the edges?
O tell me the truth about love.

Our history books refer to it
In cryptic little notes,
It's quite a common topic on
The Transatlantic boats;
I've found the subject mentioned in
Accounts of suicides,
And even seen it scribbled on
The backs of railway guides.

Does it howl like a hungry Alsatian,
Or boom like a military band?
Could one give a first-rate imitation
On a saw or a Steinway Grand?
Is its singing at parties a riot?
Does it only like Classical stuff?
Will it stop when one wants to be quiet?
O tell me the truth about love.

I looked inside the summer-house;
It wasn't over there;
I tried the Thames at Maidenhead,
And Brighton's bracing air.
I don't know what the blackbird sang,
Or what the tulip said;
But it wasn't in the chicken-run,
Or underneath the bed.

Can it pull extraordinary faces?
Is it usually sick on a swing?
Does it spend all its time at the races,
or fiddling with pieces of string?
Has it views of its own about money?
Does it think Patriotism enough?
Are its stories vulgar but funny?
O tell me the truth about love.

When it comes, will it come without warning
Just as I'm picking my nose?
Will it knock on my door in the morning,
Or tread in the bus on my toes?
Will it come like a change in the weather?
Will its greeting be courteous or rough?
Will it alter my life altogether?
O tell me the truth about love.

Viveiro, Lugo o mundo

Maruja Mallo, excelente pintora

Déjà-vu

Some places you remember from your dreams, you fall into them in your waking life and they seem oddly familiar. You feel an itch, a slight change in the temperature of the air, you think to yourself : - "Hey, I've been here before..."
But that's not possible, never, ever in your life you had been to that place before.

great gig in the sky

Simply love this...
I first heard it when I was fourteen, it gave me the chills...still does.

light, camera, still

Dan Winters, good photography

General election

Metropolis by George Grosz

Os numeros ?

Os numeros são obscenos, como sempre foram,
os numeros são sangue, suor e lágrimas.

Não há como esconder isto.


The numbers ?

The numbers are obscene, as they always were,
the numbers are blood, sweat and tears.

There's no way you can hide this.

too much

Can't follow all the news...it's too much, I'll get overloaded.

indulging oneself

The Oyster Eater
Date unknown
by James Ensor

Night train

Passages

looking for cracks, fissures, crevices
places out of time

passages.


a pensar em fendas, fissuras, cavidades
espaços fora do tempo

passagens.

Neverwhere

T'ang dynasty

Lady in fur

Aleluia.

Ás vezes falhamos e é um estrondo,
um ruído imenso, vindo das nossas entranhas
abanando os nossos ossos. Tudo treme
mas somos só nós.


Sometimes we fail and it's a roaring noise,
covering everything, coming from our entrails
scratching our bones. The World trembles
but it's only us.

Life

A Record Of Life from Owen Gatley on Vimeo.

Silence

un peu de beauté

Stop ETA

She looks just like a fragile young woman, but in fact she is a fugitive.
Maite Aranalde is a member of Basque terrorist group ETA - ETA has been comitting murders for decades now, in spite of Spain transition from ditadure to democracy.
Even if in their homeland, the Basque country, they are a minority...
How can people still consider violence as a means to an end, here in Europe and at this day and age ?

Parece uma jovem mulher frágil, mas na verdade é uma fugitiva. Maite Aranalde é membra da ETA, grupo terrorista que continua a assassinar pessoas, apesar da Espanha ter passado de ditadura a democracia.
Apesar de no próprio País Basco apenas uma minoria querer a independência...
Como é possível haver gente como ela, que acredita na violência como meio para atingir os seus fins, aqui na Europa e neste momento da História ?

seres pequeños

“Con los ojos llenos de humanidad y de miedo y de fetos perdidos en la vastedad de la memoria. Fetos y otros seres pequeños con los ojos abiertos.”
Roberto Bolaño in Perfiguración de Lalo Cura

Dois rapazes falando russo caminham pela rua, um faz sons e gestos como se disparasse uma metralhadora, enquanto se esquiva de fogo inimigo. Leva uma tshirt anunciando tabaco cubano do mais caro, que diz na baínha, como legenda, Cancun Mexico.
A minha janela do comboio está totalmente coberta de grafitti, o que vejo, é o reflexo do que se vê pelas janelas do lado oposto – todo o mundo está repleto de enganos.
Chegados, corremos todos, quase com desespero, pelas escadas do metro abaixo, chegados ao cais, o comboio ao nosso alcance, compomo-nos e dignos entramos na carruagem.

NOW

A young man sits in front of me, wears a tshirt
MR. RIGHT now.
I think how impossible it is now :
like catching a cloud.

Solo

"Sé que estaba solo y que se movia entre las masas afiebrado y sin amor, lleno de pasión y vacío de esperanza."
Roberto Bolaño in Prefiguración de Lalo Cura

the Earth moves

A maior economia do mundo mudou de administração no final do ano passado, a segunda maior está em vias de sofrer uma mudança agora. Ambas as mudanças são num sentido mais aberto ao mundo e aos tempos...como será a Terra se as nações forem mesmo unidas ?
(Escolhi a fotografia do Chaplin como ilustração, porque foi alguém que no seu tempo soube procurar um tempo melhor...e porque o seu gesto me fez lembrar qualquer coisa, ehehe).

The world greatest economy has changed its administration at the end of last year, the second greatest it is changing it now. Both changes were to more open-minded, more in-synch with the world and the times people...how will the Earth be if all the nations become really united ?
(I chose Chaplin's picture to ilustrate this post, because he was someone that during his life, always strived for something better...)

Summer's ending

Olho para o rio, hoje em vez das altas luzes do sol, as sombras das nuvens.
O tempo está também mais fresco, e assim somos avisados de que o Verão está a acabar.

I look at the river, today instead of the sun's highlights, there are the shadows of the clouds.
Wheater is also fresher, in this way we are being warned that Summer is ending.

Smile on

em muitos lugares sofre-se, pode faltar a água ou havê-la a mais,
mas sofre-se, em demasiados lugares sofre-se. Sofre-se, mas sempre
longe do teu sorriso.

in many places people suffer, water may lack or it may be too much,
but in too many places people suffer. People suffer, but never
close to your smile.

Gli Italiani

'Gli italiani si voltano', 1953. Stampa alla gelatina d’argento. 30,5x40 cm. Collezione Mario De Biasi, Milano

Fatias paridas

Do café vem um cheiro da infância, fatias paridas : pão duro, embebido em leite, passado por ovo e depois de frito envolto em açúcar e canela. Na estação um par beija-se carinhosamente, têm ambos cabelos perfeitos, mas são tão magrinhos e novinhos, tudo amadurece tão depressa, hoje em dia, como pudim instantâneo...
Vai fazer um calor dos infernos, o quiosque dos jornais também já reabriu.

From the Coffee Shop comes a smell of ancient mornings : fatias paridas...At the train station a pair embraces tenderly, they're both very skinny, very young, they both have perfect hair, like pop stars, everything blooms so fast nowadays, just like instant pudding...
Today it's going to be hot like hell, the newstand has reopened also.

I wish...

I was drafted into the Army and got really scared about it...walked down to the river and sit on the steps of the quay, watched the river flow for a long time. Let my troubles drift downstream with the flow.
When I was going back home, found this green marble in the floor, pick it up and in a whim, went to your door instead : “- Please, I said, keep this while I’m away, for good luck.”.
Never asked you no more about the green marble, in fact never talked that much with you anymore, but it sure gave me luck. Some kind of goodness people do unto others that get by unsaid, but not forgotten (I wish).