Os desabafos e porque não os devaneios de alguém que diz ter algo de muito importante a revelar ao mundo e quiçá a Portugal, sobre materiais e outras coisinhas. Os materiais “andem” por aí …e já agora as “bases” alguém as viu!?

domingo, 14 de fevereiro de 2010

Love me... love me not...

There's a drumming noise inside my head.
That starts when you're around.
I swear that you could hear it. It makes such an all mighty sound.


Estas palavras pertencem a uma letra de canção mas, no entanto, traduzem na perfeição aquilo que acontece quando uma pessoa se apaixona.

Hoje é dia de S. Valentim.

O que é que isso significa?

Para certas pessoas nada. É esta a realidade.

Nem todos comemoram este dia, pois simplesmente não tem motivo para o fazer. Like this girl:



She’s alone right? On a Valentine’s Day??? That’s sad.
Perhaps…
Maybe she is choosing to be alone. Why would it be that simple?

It is true that most of the times love happens and is beautiful and lifts us up where we belong and we think: all we need is love.

Love…
Love is messy. Check this trio:



Lady Duck went out with Ducky and fell in love with him… supposedly. Because if she did fall in love with Ducky why the hell was she making out with miss Duckness???

Ducky lost more than a girlfriend. He lost his best friend.

How did this happen? Love happened. But it sort of happened again for Lady Duck.

It is possible to fall in love over and over. And besides nowadays people lose interest very quickly.

Vá, mas nem tudo está perdido.

O amor acontece para alguns e é suficiente para manter uma relação durante anos. E quando isso acontece…

Bem…

Granny here knows what it feels to be loved everyday…







Não percam a esperança.

HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY

domingo, 7 de fevereiro de 2010

a POEM




the hours rise up putting off stars and it is
dawn
into the street of the sky light walks scattering poems

on earth a candle is
extinguished the city
wakes
with a song upon her
mouth having death in her eyes

and it is dawn
the world
goes forth to murder dreams ....

i see in the street where strong
men are digging bread
and i see the brutal faces of
people contented hideous hopeless cruel happy

and it is day,

in the mirror
i see a frail
man
dreaming
dreams
dreams in the mirror

and it
is dusk on earth

a candle is lighted
and it is dark
and people are in their houses
the frail man is in his bed
the city

sleeps with death upon her mouth having a song in her eyes
the hours descend,
putting on stars ....

in the street of the sky night walks scattering poems

(e. e. cummings)