Algumas ideias da última crónica de Inês Pedrosa na Única do Expresso :
- Com a limitação do uso da prisão preventiva, aumentaram imenso os maus tratos sobre as mulheres
- Quando uma situação de violência surge, é normalmente a vitima que é forçada a mudar de vida, a "esconder-se" digamos assim em lares de acolhimento (em muitos casos levando consigo crianças)
I keep things untidy, Piles of paper accumulate on my desk Even unread emails clatter My junk e-mail folder, So you see the kind of person I am. Untidy and un-organized.
Quand je vous aimerai? Ma foi, je ne sais pas, Peut-être jamais, peut-être demain. Mais pas aujourd'hui, c'est certain L'amour est un oiseau rebelle que nul ne peut apprivoiser, et c'est bien en vain qu'on l'appelle, s'il lui convient de refuser. Rien n'y fait, menace ou prière, l'un parle bien, l'autre se tait: Et c'est l'autre que je préfère, Il n'a rien dit mais il me plaît. L'amour! L'amour! L'amour! L'amour! L'amour est enfant de Bohème, il n'a jamais, jamais connu de loi; si tu ne m'aimes pas, je t'aime: si je t'aime, prends garde à toi! Si tu ne m’aimes pas, Si tu ne m’aimes pas, je t’aime! Mais, si je t’aime, Si je t’aime, prends garde à toi! Si tu ne m’aimes pas, Si tu ne m’aimes pas, je t’aime! Mais, si je t’aime, Si je t’aime, prends garde à toi! L'oiseau que tu croyais surprendre battit de l'aile et s'envola ... l'amour est loin, tu peux l'attendre; tu ne l'attends plus, il est là! Tout autour de toi, vite, vite, il vient, s'en va, puis il revient ... tu crois le tenir, il t'évite, tu crois l'éviter, il te tient. L'amour! L'amour! L'amour! L'amour! L'amour est enfant de Bohème, il n'a jamais, jamais connu de loi; si tu ne m'aimes pas, je t'aime: si je t'aime, prends garde à toi! (x2)
When will I love you? Good Lord, I don't know, Maybe never, maybe tomorrow. But not today, that's for sure. Love is a rebellious bird that nobody can tame, and you call him quite in vain if it suits him not to come. Nothing helps, neither threat nor prayer. One man talks well, the other keeps silent; it's the other one that I prefer. He said nothing, but I like him. Love! Love! Love! Love! Love is a gypsy's child, it has never, ever, recognized the law; if you love me not, then I love you; if I love you, you'd best beware! if you love me not, if you love me not, then I love you; but if I love you, if I love you, you'd best beware! if you love me not, if you love me not, then I love you; but if I love you, if I love you, you'd best beware! The bird you thought you had caught beat its wings and flew away ... love stays away, you wait and wait; when least expected, there it is! All around you, swift, swift, it comes, goes, then it returns ... you think you hold it fast, it flees you think you're free, it holds you fast. Love! Love! Love! Love! Love is a gypsy child, it has never, ever, known law; if you love me not, then I love you; if I love you, you'd best beware!
Há alguns anos vi uma exposição com os últimos trabalhos de Maria Helena Vieira da Silva e nunca mais me saíu da cabeça, uma aguarela (acho eu) na qual uma figura parecia encaminhar-se para um limiar, onde uma luz verde a aguardava...
Several years ago I saw an exibithion of the last works of painter Maria Helena Vieira da Silva and there was one I could never forget : a watercolor ( I think) of a frail figure moving towards a threshold where a green light awaited.
Hear, hear : Alex Ross marvellous book "The rest is noise" changed forever my view in XX century's music. Please take a peak, also in www.therestisnoise.com
I am in need of music that would flow Over my fretful, feeling fingertips, Over my bitter-tainted, trembling lips, With melody, deep, clear, and liquid-slow. Oh, for the healing swaying, old and low, Of some song sung to rest the tired dead, A song to fall like water on my head, And over quivering limbs, dream flushed to glow!
There is a magic made by melody: A spell of rest, and quiet breath, and cool Heart, that sinks through fading colors deep To the subaqueous stillness of the sea, And floats forever in a moon-green pool, Held in the arms of rhythm and of sleep.
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