paz

Meu coração não se cansa de ter esperança de um dia ser tudo o que quer

Caetano Veloso

lição de hoje:

há nós que nos desapertam.

o que é puro é duro?

geografia dos corações.

é quase quase natal!

diz que não sabe do medo da morte do amor

diz que tem medo da morte do amor

diz que o amor é morte é medo

diz que a morte é medo é amor

diz que não sabe

Alejandra Pizarnik

Be careful of words, even the miraculous ones. For the miraculous we do our best, sometimes they swarm like insects and leave not a sting but a kiss. They can be as good as fingers. They can be as trusty as the rock you stick your bottom on. But they can be both daisies and bruises. Yet I am in love with words. They are doves falling out of the ceiling. They are six holy oranges sitting in my lap. They are the trees, the legs of summer, and the sun, its passionate face. Yet often they fail me. I have so much I want to say, so many stories, images, proverbs, etc. But the words aren't good enough, the wrong ones kiss me. Sometimes I fly like an eagle but with the wings of a wren. But I try to take care and be gentle to them. Words and eggs must be handled with care. Once broken they are impossible things to repair.

Anne Sexton

recorte

Somos o perfume, o produto atómico da comunhão entre o que nos inere e o que escolhemos fazer-nos parte.

urgente e importante

descubra descubro procuro as diferenças

when you try very hard to do something by the time you can do it, it is easy to do.

so effort is maybe

a kind of prayer.

diane arbus

"vocês são todos uns mentirosos porque se vão todos embora", disse o andré valente. e eu concordei.

mas quem se vai embora sou eu.

a saudade, sabem,

tem a ver com espaços e corpos

my heart is wide open

"vocês são todos uns mentirosos porque se vão todos embora"

andré valente, de catarina ruivo

Joseph Haydn + Dimitri Chostakovitch + Johannes Brahms

(e viva os concertos às 19h na gulbenkian)

oliver twist de roman polanski (bem, de charles dickens)

Fellini durante as filmagens do Fellini Satyricon

Fellini satyricon

(...)
Truth in drama is forever elusive. You never quite find it but the search for it is compulsive. The search is clearly what drives the endeavour. The search is your task. More often than not you stumble upon the truth in the dark, colliding with it or just glimpsing an image or a shape which seems to correspond to the truth, often without realising that you have done so. But the real truth is that there never is any such thing as one truth to be found in dramatic art. There are many. These truths challenge each other, recoil from each other, reflect each other, ignore each other, tease each other, are blind to each other. Sometimes you feel you have the truth of a moment in your hand, then it slips through your fingers and is lost.
(...)
So language in art remains a highly ambiguous transaction, a quicksand, a trampoline, a frozen pool which might give way under you, the author, at any time.
(...)
But as I have said, the search for the truth can never stop. It cannot be adjourned, it cannot be postponed. It has to be faced, right there, on the spot.
(...)
'Father,' he said, 'let me tell you something. In war, innocent people always suffer.' There was a frozen silence. We stared at him. He did not flinch. Innocent people, indeed, always suffer.
(...)
Our beginnings never know our ends.
(...)
It never happened. Nothing ever happened. Even while it was happening it wasn't happening. It didn't matter. It was of no interest. The crimes of the United States have been systematic, constant, vicious, remorseless, but very few people have actually talked about them. You have to hand it to America. It has exercised a quite clinical manipulation of power worldwide while masquerading as a force for universal good. It's a brilliant, even witty, highly successful act of hypnosis.
(...)
What has happened to our moral sensibility? Did we ever have any? What do these words mean? Do they refer to a term very rarely employed these days - conscience? A conscience to do not only with our own acts but to do with our shared responsibility in the acts of others? Is all this dead?
(...)
Blood is dirty. It dirties your shirt and tie when you're making a sincere speech on television.
(...)

discurso de Harold Pinter na entrega do Nobel de Literatura em 2005

*suspiro*

Até quando você vai levando porrada, porrada?

Até quando vai ficar sem fazer nada?
Até quando você vai levando porrada, porrada?
Até quando vai ser saco de pancada?

mas p'ra quê?

hail, hail

the lucky ones,

i refer to those in love

pearl jam

maybe i'm too young

to keep good love from

going wrong

não sei criar.
talvez nem saiba receber o que os outros criam. queriam. quereriam. criariam.

suprema injustiça

a minha mãe é um quadro do Vermeer e nem sabe

tenho a certeza de que no berço a minha primeira vontade foi a de pertencer

clarice lispector

edouard boubat

edouard boubat

"na verdade

a revolta

mesmo íntima

não destrói

as trevas"

ernesto de sousa -escrito para helena almeida em 1976