Hippomenes and Atlanta

This painting explains Ovid's Metamorphosis myth in which Atlanta, a skilled huntress, challenged her suitors to outrace her and win her hand. The penalty for the loser was death. Hippomenes faced up to the challenge but invoked Venus before the race. Venus listened to his plea and gave him three golden apples. Hippomenes put into practice the goddess's advice and threw the apples one by one during the race. Atalanta, filled with curiosity, stopped to pick them, losing time; her rival took advantage of it, reached the goal first and won the race.

warm and tender

hid my face amid a crowd of stars

When You are Old
by W. B. Yeats

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

People

in Paris

In Paris With You

Don't talk to me of love. I've had an earful
And I get tearful when I've downed a drink or two.
I'm one of your talking wounded.
I'm a hostage. I'm maroonded.
But I'm in Paris with you.

Yes I'm angry at the way I've been bamboozled
And resentful at the mess I've been through.
I admit I'm on the rebound
And I don't care where are we bound.
I'm in Paris with you.

Do you mind if we do not go to the Louvre
If we say sod off to sodding Notre Dame,
If we skip the Champs Elysées
And remain here in this sleazy

Old hotel room
Doing this and that
To what and whom
Learning who you are,
Learning what I am.

Don't talk to me of love. Let's talk of Paris,
The little bit of Paris in our view.
There's that crack across the ceiling
And the hotel walls are peeling
And I'm in Paris with you.

Don't talk to me of love. Let's talk of Paris.
I'm in Paris with the slightest thing you do.
I'm in Paris with your eyes, your mouth,
I'm in Paris with... all points south.
Am I embarrassing you?
I'm in Paris with you.

James Fenton

Glórias passadas

Uma figura negra passa por mim,
no escuro consigo distinguir-lhe os traços
Como está velho já, tão descaídas as suas feições
ainda há bem pouco, alto e orgulhoso
exercia de patriarca de uma familia cigana.
Visto de relance, ainda nos engana com o seu porte
mas é já um fraco velho, quando nele se detém o nosso olhar.

À minha frente segue um cão preto,
conhecido de todos, ninguém sabe bem quem é o seu dono
acho que ele também não se importa, é o cão da vila
Anda pelo largo e logo decide a quem há-de seguir,
nesse dia, sem compromissos.

Da encosta os columbófilos, fazem soar os seus apitos
chamam os seus campeões para casa.
Eu também, fiz de campeão algumas vezes
joguei pela equipa da terra, por pelados secos e enlameados,
Marquei golos e dei saltos de alegria
em instantes de glória fugaz,
tudo isso passou já, uma curta corrida, deixa-me agora
com o coração pela boca.

Do alto do monte soam os apitos
chamam os campeões para casa
Todos nos encontraremos lá,
glórias passadas, patriarcas envelhecidos, cães sem dono...

no teu olhar

"Como o dia depende da inocência
O mundo inteiro depende dos teus olhos
E todo o meu sangue corre no teu olhar".

-"Antologia" Paul Éluard - Colecção organizada por Alexandre O'Neill/ tradução de António Ramos Rosa -

via Trama livraria

Flaqui Panchi

found on Flickr too

All about the box

Great ideas need support!

variations on the word sleep

Flickr is an Ali Bábá's cave...

Horses

Stars

Once upon a time, there were real stars walking this very planet. At the time the rest of the world could get a peek at them in darkened places called movie houses.
People would put on their best clothes to go there. Then would sit in reverent silence, wondering how marvellous and distant stars really are...

bold - human

Blue Lines

Intimacy

This painting is so intimate, so relaxed, one cannot but feel intruding : this was not obviously for us to see.
This was crafted for a particular person, only he should get to see it, it's an offer.
It's so beautiful that everybody can sense that and be made to lower their gaze. Move away.

Long gone champions

This black figure passes by,
In the dark I can make out his features
Oh, how old he is now, how weak he looks,
Not so long ago he was tall and proud
The patriarch of an extended gipsy family.
He can fool you with his garb, his erect figure,
but he’s a frail old man now, when you care to look closer.

A black dog, goes in front of me,
Everybody knows him and nobody cares who owns him,
Guess he doesn’t care too, he’s just the town dog
Goes about the square and decides randomly
Who he is going to follow today,
No strings attached.

Up on the hill, the pigeon breeders
Sound their whistles, they’re calling their
Champions home.
Me too, I was a champion sometime
I played the dusty or muddy pitches for the local team,
Scored goals and jumped high
Celebrating the momentous glory
All gone now, a small run makes me short of breath already…

Up on the hill, whistles sound
Calling champions home,
We will all meet, up there on some hill
Long gone champions, faded patriarchs, rambling dogs…

Hot dog !

ainda há bocadinho...

Dizendo adeus a ainda há bocadinho...

on the road

American road trip

Simple

Currently resides in Brooklyn, NY

EXHIBITIONS
Represented by Kavi Gupta Gallery, Chicago, IL

Ella

Ventana

Silence

More here

the price we have to pay

Edward Coley Burne-Jones, The Sleeping Beauty from the small Briar Rose series. Oil on canvas, 60 x 115 cm. San Juan de Puerto Rico, Museo de Arte de Ponce.

If I could tell you

Time will say nothing but I told you so,
Time only knows the price we have to pay;
If I could tell you I would let you know.

If we should weep when clowns put on their show,
If we should stumble when musicians play,
Time will say nothing but I told you so.

There are no fortunes to be told, although,
Because I love you more than I can say,
If I could tell you I would let you know.

The winds must come from somewhere when they blow,
There must be reasons why the leaves decay;
Time will say nothing but I told you so.

Perhaps the roses really want to grow,
The vision seriously intends to stay;
If I could tell you I would let you know.

Suppose the lions all get up and go,
And all the brooks and soldiers run away;
Will Time say nothing but I told you so?
If I could tell you I would let you know.

W. H. Auden (1907 - 73)

Botanicals

Dizzy

Gottfried Helnwein, Leda and the swann

Dizzy.

I feel dizzy,
I've been waltzing alone
in my head.

Daughter of the lonesome isle- Green stone

Joy

I searched for God among the Christians and on the Cross and therein I found Him not.
I went into the ancient temples of idolatry; no trace of Him was there.
I entered the mountain cave of Hira and then went as far as Qandhar but God I found not.
With set purpose I fared to the summit of Mount Caucasus and found there only 'anqa's habitation.
Then I directed my search to the Kaaba, the resort of old and young; God was not there even.
Turning to philosophy I inquired about him from ibn Sina but found Him not within his range.
I fared then to the scene of the Prophet's experience of a great divine manifestation only a "two bow-lengths' distance from him" but God was not there even in that exalted court.
Finally, I looked into my own heart and there I saw Him; He was nowhere else.

Rumi

chinese proverb

"Se eu vejo, esqueço.
Se eu escuto, recordo.
Se eu faço, compreendo."
Provérbio chinês, citado na Única de 6/02/2010

"I hear...I forget
I see...and I remember
I do...and I understand"
Ancient Chinese Proverb
from the Net now