lundi 24 avril 2017



O interior da Alma, 2010, Lucília Saraiva

media : fotografia com saturação extrema

wuukasch
sim, acho que o envelhecimento dos tecidos é mau,
mas o amadurecimento do cérebro é excelente

e o endurecimento do coração ainda melhor ...

mardi 18 avril 2017

lundi 10 avril 2017

Dream

There was no one inside the house. Neon lights illuminated the bare dark walls and a thick blue carpet stretched out before my feet like an ocean.
I tried to move but felt stuck. I was searching for a better place, for a face that might open up a door to another world. For a moment, I saw a flash of blue light and started hearing movie music and then a stagnant silence.
Then a map floated into the room like a magic carpet. I suddenly felt my heavy and tired legs and my feet turning to ice inside my socks.
I was draped in this enchanted profound silence, waiting for a magic signal - one dark midnight.
And all of a sudden, in my dream, I was standing under a vast umbrella of bat wings. I proceeded slowly to my supposed destination.
At some point, I found myself inside a crowd of people leaving a movie theater. They were all staring at me, as if in a trance, walking down the stairs, with their hands plunged in their pockets. Not one single face was known to me.
I still was searching for a place in pitch dark now. I was longing for this remote destination. The walls were narrowing and the pavement was crooked. I was walking like a ghost. It was cold. Using all my strenght, I kept walking, struggling to avoid the huge holes in the pavement.
The longer I walked, the more my dread grew. I was confused and shattered. All I wanted was to find a place where I could sit and think.
Suddenly appears in front of me a television screen and I started to put a red lipstick. A telephone is ringing with a metallic sound. I am now in a small room with no furniture, swamped  with a pale orange light.  I am still trying to figure out my destination.

kulturtava

jeudi 6 avril 2017

O alguidar do Tempo

Pingam, lentamente, as horas
no alguidar do Tempo,
formando círculos concêntricos
e hipnóticos.

Acelera-se ou desacelera-se mentalmente o ritmo
da Vida, e fisiologicamente adensa-se ou flui o sangue
que corre nas nossas artérias.

Entregamo-nos ao Sonho, paralelos os meridianos,
semi acordados, seminus, semi adormecidos.
Aí estanca o Tempo. Nesse barco rumo à Ilha.

Somos demiurgicamente belos e nus e jovens
e os nossos anelos, grandiosamente, excitam
aqueles que de cima e de longe
nos olham com desdém e invídia.

As horas, pingam, lentamente,
no alguidar do Tempo,
formando círculos concêntricos
e hipnóticos.

E enruga-se-nos a pele!

samedi 1 avril 2017



telle une plume soufflée
par le vent-  toujours
je m'accroche
à tes délicieuses épines