Caneta Sem Tinta

Ukiyo-e - Retratos do Mundo Flutuante

2009-09-05T11:02:00.002Z

The Great Wave of Kanagawa
Hokusai

Change

2009-09-05T10:40:00.003Z

'Without change there can be no nostalgia'

Ghost Train to the Eastern Star de Paul Theroux

Viagem

2009-09-02T13:11:00.001Z

Pisa, Agosto 2oo9

Lolita

2009-07-31T19:24:00.007Z

Lolita: Wait a sec. You're telling me we're sleeping in one room? With one bed?
Humbert: I've asked them to bring up a cot, which I'll use if you like.
Lolita: You're crazy.
Humbert: Why, my darling?
Lolita: Because, my darrr-ling, when my darrr-ling mother finds out she'll divorce you and strangle me.
Humbert: Lo, listen a moment. For all intents and purposes I am your father and I am responsible for your welfare. We are not rich, so when we travel, we shall be - we shall uh... we shall be thrown together a great deal. And two people who enter into a cohabitation inevitably lead into a kind of...
Lolita: The word is "incest".

Kaligayahan

2009-07-27T18:19:00.006Z

Hartmut Schwarzbach
Hasselblad Porträts auf dem Aroma Smokey Mountain
Manila, Filipinas

Koboku Meigekizu

2009-07-27T15:23:00.006Z

Miyamoto Musashi
Gorin No Shô

Kent Williams

2009-07-25T01:11:00.006Z

Kent Williams

E, nos dois primeiros dias de férias, descobri o sushi, os comics e o baseball. Thanks P.

Der Wanderer über dem Nebelmeer

2009-07-18T17:52:00.004Z

Caspar David Friedrich

2009-05-14T18:28:00.004Z

Há em certas palavras que habitualmente empregamos uma mola escondida que de repente as abre até ao fundo, no-las explica na sua intimidade excepcional: depois a palavra retrai-se, retoma a sua forma banal e circula insignificante, desgastada pelo hábito e pelo maquinal. O amor é uma dessas palavras.

Sapho de Alphonse Daudet

Darjeeling Limited

2009-03-24T22:58:00.003Z

Perception

2009-02-24T11:50:00.004Z

Torino, Setembro de 2008

Cheshire Cat

2009-02-23T20:05:00.007Z

"Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?"
"That depends a good deal on where you want to get to," said the Cat.
"I don't much care where –" said Alice.
"Then it doesn't matter which way you go," said the Cat.
"– so long as I get somewhere," Alice added as an explanation.
"Oh, you're sure to do that," said the Cat, "if you only walk long enough."

Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

Üç maymun

2009-02-19T18:17:00.007Z

Já me havia referido anteriormente ao trabalho de Nuri Bilge Ceylan enquanto fotógrafo, daí não ter sido surpresa a atenção ao pormenor em cada cena; no entanto, as sombras duras e os longos silêncios presentes neste filme elevam-no a uma beleza fotográfica raramente observada. O cinema turco apresenta uma cada vez maior qualidade e só lamento a dificuldade em encontrá-los nas salas de cinema portuguesas.

Para fazer o download do filme com legendas em português (do Brasil) carregar aqui.

Fuck you! I'm back...

2009-02-18T20:56:00.001Z

"There's something in the air tonight
A feeling that you have that could change your life"

Cut Copy - Hearts On Fire

American Beauty

2008-08-08T23:13:00.002Z

Türkiye

2008-08-08T16:20:00.004Z

Tenho saudades da Turquia.

Foto: Nuri Bilge Ceylan

Auguries of Innocence

2008-08-02T23:05:00.002Z

To see a world in a grain of sand,
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour.

A robin redbreast in a cage
Puts all heaven in a rage.

A dove-house fill'd with doves and pigeons
Shudders hell thro' all its regions.
A dog starv'd at his master's gate
Predicts the ruin of the state.

A horse misused upon the road
Calls to heaven for human blood.
Each outcry of the hunted hare
A fibre from the brain does tear.

A skylark wounded in the wing,
A cherubim does cease to sing.
The game-cock clipt and arm'd for fight
Does the rising sun affright.

Every wolf's and lion's howl
Raises from hell a human soul.

The wild deer, wand'ring here and there,
Keeps the human soul from care.
The lamb misus'd breeds public strife,
And yet forgives the butcher's knife.

The bat that flits at close of eve
Has left the brain that won't believe.
The owl that calls upon the night
Speaks the unbeliever's fright.

He who shall hurt the little wren
Shall never be belov'd by men.
He who the ox to wrath has mov'd
Shall never be by woman lov'd.

The wanton boy that kills the fly
Shall feel the spider's enmity.
He who torments the chafer's sprite
Weaves a bower in endless night.

The caterpillar on the leaf
Repeats to thee thy mother's grief.
Kill not the moth nor butterfly,
For the last judgement draweth nigh.

He who shall train the horse to war
Shall never pass the polar bar.
The beggar's dog and widow's cat,
Feed them and thou wilt grow fat.

The gnat that sings his summer's song
Poison gets from slander's tongue.
The poison of the snake and newt
Is the sweat of envy's foot.

The poison of the honey bee
Is the artist's jealousy.

The prince's robes and beggar's rags
Are toadstools on the miser's bags.
A truth that's told with bad intent
Beats all the lies you can invent.

It is right it should be so;
Man was made for joy and woe;
And when this we rightly know,
Thro' the world we safely go.

Joy and woe are woven fine,
A clothing for the soul divine.
Under every grief and pine
Runs a joy with silken twine.

The babe is more than swaddling bands;
Every farmer understands.
Every tear from every eye
Becomes a babe in eternity;

This is caught by females bright,
And return'd to its own delight.
The bleat, the bark, bellow, and roar,
Are waves that beat on heaven's shore.

The babe that weeps the rod beneath
Writes revenge in realms of death.
The beggar's rags, fluttering in air,
Does to rags the heavens tear.

The soldier, arm'd with sword and gun,
Palsied strikes the summer's sun.
The poor man's farthing is worth more
Than all the gold on Afric's shore.

One mite wrung from the lab'rer's hands
Shall buy and sell the miser's lands;
Or, if protected from on high,
Does that whole nation sell and buy.

He who mocks the infant's faith
Shall be mock'd in age and death.
He who shall teach the child to doubt
The rotting grave shall ne'er get out.

He who respects the infant's faith
Triumphs over hell and death.
The child's toys and the old man's reasons
Are the fruits of the two seasons.

The questioner, who sits so sly,
Shall never know how to reply.
He who replies to words of doubt
Doth put the light of knowledge out.

The strongest poison ever known
Came from Caesar's laurel crown.
Nought can deform the human race
Like to the armour's iron brace.

When gold and gems adorn the plow,
To peaceful arts shall envy bow.
A riddle, or the cricket's cry,
Is to doubt a fit reply.

The emmet's inch and eagle's mile
Make lame philosophy to smile.
He who doubts from what he sees
Will ne'er believe, do what you please.

If the sun and moon should doubt,
They'd immediately go out.
To be in a passion you good may do,
But no good if a passion is in you.

The whore and gambler, by the state
Licensed, build that nation's fate.
The harlot's cry from street to street
Shall weave old England's winding-sheet.

The winner's shout, the loser's curse,
Dance before dead England's hearse.

Every night and every morn
Some to misery are born,
Every morn and every night
Some are born to sweet delight.

Some are born to sweet delight,
Some are born to endless night.

We are led to believe a lie
When we see not thro' the eye,
Which was born in a night to perish in a night,
When the soul slept in beams of light.

God appears, and God is light,
To those poor souls who dwell in night;
But does a human form display
To those who dwell in realms of day.

William Blake

Il mio fratello è figlio unico

2008-08-01T13:03:00.004Z

Porto, Julho de 2008

Traduttore Traditore

2008-07-31T10:23:00.003Z

Porquê Saramago? Porquê? Porque traduziste os nomes do Анна Каренина para Português?

Après moi, le déluge

2008-07-15T13:23:00.005Z

February. Get ink, shed tears.
Write of it, sob your heart out, sing,
While torrential slush that roars
Burns in the blackness of the spring .

Go hire a buggy. For six grivnas,
Race through the noise of bells and whells
To where the ink and all you grieving
Are muffled when the rainshower falls.

To where, like pears burnt black as charcoal,
A myriad rooks, plucked from the trees,
Fall down into the puddles, hurl
Dry sadness deep into the eyes.

Below, the wet black earth shows through,
With sudden cries the wind is pitted,
The more haphazard, the more true
The poetry that sobs its heart out.

Boris Pasternak

Regina Spektor - Après moi

Voalá

2008-05-24T06:50:00.003Z

Imaginarius - Santa Maria da Feira, Maio de 2008
Foto: Ângela Almeida

Sunrise

2008-02-01T15:01:00.001Z

Julie Delpy - A Waltz For A Night

Chaves, Agosto de 2007

O vento levar-nos-à

2008-01-21T00:28:00.001Z

In my small night, ah
the wind has a date with the leaves of the trees
in my small night there is agony of destruction
listen
do you hear the darkness blowing?
I look upon this bliss as a stranger
I am addicted to my despair.

listen do you hear the darkness blowing?
something is passing in the night
the moon is restless and red
and over this rooftop
where crumbling is a constant fear
clouds, like a procession of mourners
seem to be waiting for the moment of rain.
a moment
and then nothing
night shudders beyond this window
and the earth winds to a halt
beyond this window
something unknown is watching you and me.

O green from head to foot
place your hands like a burning memory
in my loving hands
give your lips to the caresses
of my loving lips
like the warm perception of being
the wind will take us
the wind will take us.

Forugh Farrokhzad

Noir Désir - Le vent nous portera

Hospice for Destitute Lovers

2007-12-29T23:43:00.001Z

Gosto de parvoíces, disparates. Desatinos e dislates. Gosto de filmes impossíveis, personagens estranhos e bizarros. Gosto do absurdo, do ilógico, do infantil, espontâneo e estúpido. E gosto tanto de mim quando também eu sou assim.

Woodenhead
Steve Abel & Mardy Potter

Fantasporto, Fevereiro de 2005

Livro dos Amantes

2007-12-02T00:53:00.001Z

Pusemos tanto azul nessa distância
ancorada em incerta claridade
e ficamos nas paredes do vento
a escorrer para tudo o que ele invade.

Pusemos tantas flores nas horas breves
que secam folhas nas árvores dos dedos.
E ficámos cingidos nas estátuas
a morder-nos na carne dum segredo.

Natália Correia