tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49659450669850919922024-03-13T08:30:04.878+00:00a poesia está na ruaUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger26125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4965945066985091992.post-73191518386166215462011-02-06T14:40:00.004+00:002011-02-06T14:51:52.765+00:00amor<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij8gKNWcWF35IFVQgtFhTa1Ngo33ESoxSIFtPsQ4E-rJ4s3mEnTRWmsbeHKqsQB7bb09H4k3NeXCo2MsKxjfGaEnQ9W_l2Kf_5PWbH8vZbT5vNsEtSPzQ7s2VJ2mTZz8b9rfwdPxVWBUTz/s1600/P1030437.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570587269362844082" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij8gKNWcWF35IFVQgtFhTa1Ngo33ESoxSIFtPsQ4E-rJ4s3mEnTRWmsbeHKqsQB7bb09H4k3NeXCo2MsKxjfGaEnQ9W_l2Kf_5PWbH8vZbT5vNsEtSPzQ7s2VJ2mTZz8b9rfwdPxVWBUTz/s320/P1030437.JPG" /></a> <span style="font-size:78%;">Barcelona (Dezembro, 2010)</span></div><p align="justify">"(...) she wants to know if I love her, that's all anyone wants from anyone else, not love itself but the knowledge that love is there (...)"<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close, Jonathan Safran Foer</span> </p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4965945066985091992.post-63017730084382972482010-12-19T13:31:00.003+00:002010-12-19T13:45:06.263+00:00songs are as sad as the listener*<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUyVdrlTmUgsbyHtAX61o_4O1ayO0uUWCT9LNGMfZe1QoC8mmK0ngvp3aS6Kn_t1FVS-5x7XjaOg-_5MgBfBLaDqKzEBVOeZhyphenhyphenN3txlx_HFzh_tIZp5-JgUiCAkVeGtezfIQVD907yAPN1/s1600/P1010516.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552386526528583970" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUyVdrlTmUgsbyHtAX61o_4O1ayO0uUWCT9LNGMfZe1QoC8mmK0ngvp3aS6Kn_t1FVS-5x7XjaOg-_5MgBfBLaDqKzEBVOeZhyphenhyphenN3txlx_HFzh_tIZp5-JgUiCAkVeGtezfIQVD907yAPN1/s320/P1010516.JPG" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"> San Francisco (Maio 2009)</span></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify">Creio que descobri a resposta a <a href="http://circoemchamas.blogspot.com/2010/01/artistas-de-circo.html">esta pergunta</a>...<br /><br /></div><div align="justify">*<span style="font-size:85%;"> <em>in</em> Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close, Jonathan Safran Foer</span></div><div align="center"></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4965945066985091992.post-21394123067561021302010-12-08T16:52:00.003+00:002010-12-08T16:59:34.995+00:00oh mãe, quando eu for grande...<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwKg81MsHWprguNpUi4ijvYWqm1T3sD8mK8geeEdT2I51_zMY2dCaE467YFogR_sDg5ECZu6xV7Bkmr_UxtFOtAfuy9VMgUrbvocdpVtrwLbvrp3uja64Eo-J1OFqDPS9cBaQ3_SuGNAdZ/s1600/P1030315.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548355943741885282" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwKg81MsHWprguNpUi4ijvYWqm1T3sD8mK8geeEdT2I51_zMY2dCaE467YFogR_sDg5ECZu6xV7Bkmr_UxtFOtAfuy9VMgUrbvocdpVtrwLbvrp3uja64Eo-J1OFqDPS9cBaQ3_SuGNAdZ/s320/P1030315.JPG" /></a> <span style="font-size:78%;">Madrid (Novembro 2010)</span> </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4965945066985091992.post-56071893283994799692010-11-01T22:22:00.004+00:002010-11-01T22:33:25.914+00:00austeridade<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqCXiboqLp1zhmM7NhFSBBMnSEdIIjdJfuWvrtHzi_275RajE0C9ML425EJpZgbSV2Xy48YEC4slBPLOTaadye9sAA4_di0gT1SwRQil4Fst1N9tsaLhX28tiNm8BtWI0l4I-Q83fV1HlX/s1600/P1020783.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534711141084053106" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqCXiboqLp1zhmM7NhFSBBMnSEdIIjdJfuWvrtHzi_275RajE0C9ML425EJpZgbSV2Xy48YEC4slBPLOTaadye9sAA4_di0gT1SwRQil4Fst1N9tsaLhX28tiNm8BtWI0l4I-Q83fV1HlX/s320/P1020783.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">Lisboa (Abril 2010)</span><br /><div align="justify"><br />(...) bardamerda o FMI, o FMI é só um pretexto vosso seus cabrões, o FMI não existe, o FMI nunca aterrou na Portela coisa nenhuma, o FMI é uma finta vossa para virem para aqui com esse paleio, rua, desandem daqui para fora, a culpa é vossa, a culpa é vossa, a culpa é vossa, a culpa é vossa, a culpa é vossa, a culpa é vossa, oh mãe, oh mãe, oh mãe, oh mãe, oh mãe, oh mãe, oh mãe...<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">in <em>FMI, José Mário Branco</em></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4965945066985091992.post-29819858576997074942010-10-30T16:26:00.001+01:002010-10-30T16:26:57.083+01:00num cinema perto de si...<object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/gsnX63KK2y0?fs=1&hl=en_GB&rel=0"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/gsnX63KK2y0?fs=1&hl=en_GB&rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4965945066985091992.post-86535116636033423012010-09-30T17:04:00.009+01:002010-11-01T22:35:35.031+00:00emigrante ilegal<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1aFBRWDj0cLd_-5bAdhb3XqVYf51CAvP2aWljWcSJhH93gG1e7Gv03fHMcZlqW7DvqlyZtnCn4g0VSfjtVBxy1vO1kUvzd905lJ4wtdhXt3zG1qnKJzTULVcYMwuxBD5nwqhAU-xTJ34O/s1600/marquesviana.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533888186791145746" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1aFBRWDj0cLd_-5bAdhb3XqVYf51CAvP2aWljWcSJhH93gG1e7Gv03fHMcZlqW7DvqlyZtnCn4g0VSfjtVBxy1vO1kUvzd905lJ4wtdhXt3zG1qnKJzTULVcYMwuxBD5nwqhAU-xTJ34O/s200/marquesviana.JPG" /></a> <div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzk8idK1_W9htBHnH_DWwHhnBm2BBzNRKtCIrd3KlBgpNR_JjM5yVIqskT65dfwGf_BDlwMaJWWqab8diYHS23mBqG-DZ7GASa0gYpUn_voLVLIlYMJLtBq1rKCCnOaFB-Mc_85rm3Lz0T/s1600/P1020749.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533887049714349938" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzk8idK1_W9htBHnH_DWwHhnBm2BBzNRKtCIrd3KlBgpNR_JjM5yVIqskT65dfwGf_BDlwMaJWWqab8diYHS23mBqG-DZ7GASa0gYpUn_voLVLIlYMJLtBq1rKCCnOaFB-Mc_85rm3Lz0T/s200/P1020749.JPG" /></a> <div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhteEtwnXByGAwFTw7DsDpJZ6CU8cIBMQj1OhG3M4A_qbEJw6ZSWvhxnKvrCLDaM6L01MbpPLcXvsl9DKkH0rwUO7Dov3qTTBTWb_wvlOxodEjyTdZYdbUIzhmG9iN7NL-SnDeAlPkjkQJ3/s1600/P1020746.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533886214791498898" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhteEtwnXByGAwFTw7DsDpJZ6CU8cIBMQj1OhG3M4A_qbEJw6ZSWvhxnKvrCLDaM6L01MbpPLcXvsl9DKkH0rwUO7Dov3qTTBTWb_wvlOxodEjyTdZYdbUIzhmG9iN7NL-SnDeAlPkjkQJ3/s320/P1020746.JPG" /></a> <div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:78%;">(Madrid, Março 2010)<br /></span><br /></div><div align="justify">Vá para fora cá dentro,<br />vá aos subúrbios do Mundo no centro da cidade.<br />Igualdade, integração social,<br />seja por 10 minutos um emigrante ilegal,<br />como se chegasse do Brasil, do Paquistão.<br />Vá ao Intendente e invente uma solução que satisfaça<br />aos que já chegaram e chegarão.<br />Mesmo que não tenha vontade de ir,<br />vá ao Intendente, Sr Presidente.<br />Aprenda, para chegar é sempre preciso partir. </div><br /><div align="justify"><span style="font-size:85%;">in<em> Negócios Estrangeiros, Da Weasel</em></span></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4965945066985091992.post-76558649754421307892010-07-30T16:51:00.000+01:002010-10-30T16:57:23.294+01:00a capoeira iluminada<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW6EqkBl953nz9jO-xzqlwVSziA3FBLNsPjP-TkV_wex0ZEONOb3vWATGmHirHiL67jLgupNBIU-qFq7eim4ylsS9mxR-l3-1yuQGD0RysmxrTbc7_wS0-1B_rUptbXYjC-7lF59OkzWxq/s1600/P1030096.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533868070950188370" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW6EqkBl953nz9jO-xzqlwVSziA3FBLNsPjP-TkV_wex0ZEONOb3vWATGmHirHiL67jLgupNBIU-qFq7eim4ylsS9mxR-l3-1yuQGD0RysmxrTbc7_wS0-1B_rUptbXYjC-7lF59OkzWxq/s320/P1030096.JPG" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> (Lagoa do Abaeté, Salvador da Bahia, Julho 2010)<br /></span><br />O que seria do sol sem a lua<br />O que seria da noite sem o dia<br />O que seria...<br />da capoeira sem o Mestre Bimba<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4965945066985091992.post-10062365973792865152010-06-30T16:41:00.000+01:002010-10-30T16:49:46.064+01:00pintura mural II<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJSPYTct5wWDvpcFPyUz4C9MUs3R3WLipDxn2bYsczvX5HnXwSvlFQj8xN9I4Y6OpLtN8DJyH-CpuBTNy5t3s4BnX0xb6hZDZqC_COmfeWdl8iGQO8T6QC71z8tuOK9Vg6KbXy5qSd2Hzx/s1600/P1030006.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533865664944907298" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJSPYTct5wWDvpcFPyUz4C9MUs3R3WLipDxn2bYsczvX5HnXwSvlFQj8xN9I4Y6OpLtN8DJyH-CpuBTNy5t3s4BnX0xb6hZDZqC_COmfeWdl8iGQO8T6QC71z8tuOK9Vg6KbXy5qSd2Hzx/s320/P1030006.JPG" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><em> Tierra y Libertad, Diego Rivera</em> </span><span style="font-size:85%;">(D.F. México, Junho 2010)</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4965945066985091992.post-40898920371101319902010-06-30T16:29:00.001+01:002010-10-30T16:57:59.426+01:00pintura mural<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxNgR2B_JwnGAAFfiJ1sHg1OhjwrYk3VjiZ85SeICCWrwQ7Wt3HfoSHcizlDGSt-G1wIAZQlykt9AoDq_QX55lsRoS4rtY5geiyQkdTP_qaKgyQR7AhyphenhyphenqCoi0IDZjQojY0M1NW_NxD-y97/s1600/P1020838.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533863059947653314" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxNgR2B_JwnGAAFfiJ1sHg1OhjwrYk3VjiZ85SeICCWrwQ7Wt3HfoSHcizlDGSt-G1wIAZQlykt9AoDq_QX55lsRoS4rtY5geiyQkdTP_qaKgyQR7AhyphenhyphenqCoi0IDZjQojY0M1NW_NxD-y97/s320/P1020838.JPG" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">(Mérida, México, Junho 2010)</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4965945066985091992.post-31353362638491038092010-03-28T15:41:00.002+01:002010-03-28T15:51:25.399+01:00purificar-vos-ei de todos os falsos deuses*<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIG7ZbWNmintTPIfBpI4DUE6mjSIW3xksKcNiQHaO-3yoHR7Gwg2A9tasu1S089BfmY_mNis_i70HWUiUjBsXItFWnY7ZxvAlAskXsa6hfGMRUPZ31GU5-FmKeKVH259iQqfHWxMpTCuTq/s1600/P1020683.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453695646449480962" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIG7ZbWNmintTPIfBpI4DUE6mjSIW3xksKcNiQHaO-3yoHR7Gwg2A9tasu1S089BfmY_mNis_i70HWUiUjBsXItFWnY7ZxvAlAskXsa6hfGMRUPZ31GU5-FmKeKVH259iQqfHWxMpTCuTq/s320/P1020683.JPG" /></a> <span style="font-size:78%;">Madrid (Fevereiro 2010)</span></div><br />O dark dark dark. They all go into the dark,<br />The vacant interstellar spaces, the vacant into the vacant,<br />The captains, merchant bankers, eminent men of letters,<br />The generous patrons of art, the statesmen and the rulers,<br />Distinguished civil servants, chairmen of many committees,<br />Industrial lords and petty contractors, all go into the dark,<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">in<em> Four Quartets, T.S. Eliot</em></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>*</em> </span><span style="font-size:78%;">Da Profecia de Ezequiel, 36, 16-28</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4965945066985091992.post-55855936111072955982010-03-21T15:22:00.002+00:002010-03-28T15:36:32.818+01:00anunciação da Primavera<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWBeRcBdyXVWL6PtBIGe6ZH9MZMTTV9QE_HD8WcTNxuOHG2MlUl0rRlcSOP9ePq9iHgFec9hKYWtc_lWrxU-md2lbLnucTOmeFrjH_mD0ol23IaPdT8Briplt2eyDyzz1Jt8SjLG5jKF2Q/s1600/borboletas.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453690624213905026" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWBeRcBdyXVWL6PtBIGe6ZH9MZMTTV9QE_HD8WcTNxuOHG2MlUl0rRlcSOP9ePq9iHgFec9hKYWtc_lWrxU-md2lbLnucTOmeFrjH_mD0ol23IaPdT8Briplt2eyDyzz1Jt8SjLG5jKF2Q/s320/borboletas.JPG" /></a> <span style="font-size:78%;">Lisboa (Dezembro 2008)</span></div><br /><div align="center">Eu vou torcer pela paz</div><div align="center">Pela alegria, pelo amor</div><div align="center">Pelas coisas bonitas</div><div align="center">Eu vou torcer, eu vou</div><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">Pelo inverno</div><div align="center">Pelo sorriso</div><div align="center">Pela primavera</div><div align="center">Pela namorada</div><div align="center">Pelo verão</div><div align="center">Pelo céu azul</div><div align="center">Pelo outono</div><div align="center">Pela dignidade</div><div align="center">Pelo verde lindo desse mar</div><div align="center">Pelas coisas bonitas</div><div align="center">Eu vou torcer, eu vou</div><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="justify"><span style="font-size:85%;">in<em> Eu vou torcer, Jorge Benjor/Fernanda Abreu</em></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4965945066985091992.post-49647793869855871042010-03-16T22:57:00.006+00:002010-03-28T15:37:06.324+01:00abraça-me forte<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtmw4EfXCbVjTpLe6eis_WIJ-xVyAyPqxhlorIeeph-W681kjTqBKNNQjOubH2kdkX34ouzihhlGCo36k2RxdW53HAGYS_00rqh88oglkhTKhKiDZrPSvXQIFLhnRJGVVbHfe5RJpiivbw/s1600-h/sofa.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449372543415260706" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtmw4EfXCbVjTpLe6eis_WIJ-xVyAyPqxhlorIeeph-W681kjTqBKNNQjOubH2kdkX34ouzihhlGCo36k2RxdW53HAGYS_00rqh88oglkhTKhKiDZrPSvXQIFLhnRJGVVbHfe5RJpiivbw/s320/sofa.JPG" /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">Lisboa (Dezembro 2008)</span> <div align="left"><br /></div>No sofá eu vivo<br />morta por te ter perdido<br />corpo esquecido<br />num sofá de abrigo<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">in<em> Sofá, Cool Hipnoise</em></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4965945066985091992.post-4131504887021647852010-03-08T23:22:00.015+00:002010-03-10T23:18:23.934+00:00mulher<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUvU1yw0hUw-8hyphenhyphenhoplWZ-yc3uTo-0PYEyTUgaxI15eCd9DOCEkAHa_HCKeZoZH6zsAtwePNC0QXDM03XbhK_yofZMVQBGdTmI8q2xLXfNhTjXoYdSyJwrmdETBEqP6YwYu-cRwW6UK6hV/s1600-h/P1020198.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446785398112985170" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUvU1yw0hUw-8hyphenhyphenhoplWZ-yc3uTo-0PYEyTUgaxI15eCd9DOCEkAHa_HCKeZoZH6zsAtwePNC0QXDM03XbhK_yofZMVQBGdTmI8q2xLXfNhTjXoYdSyJwrmdETBEqP6YwYu-cRwW6UK6hV/s320/P1020198.JPG" /></a> <span style="font-size:78%;">Madrid (Junho 2009)</span><br /><div align="justify"><br />Dão-nos a honra de manequim<br />para dar corda à nossa ausência<br />Dão-nos um prémio por ser assim<br />sem pecado e sem inocência<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">in<em> Queixa das almas jovens censuradas, Natália Correia</em></span></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4965945066985091992.post-37199017543723661262010-03-07T22:54:00.003+00:002010-03-10T23:23:00.014+00:00sou lúcido<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU76ZVPdah-XhbwNwQ_J7jHOXzolhv7rQRssb7-rQUOBRbMIzg_KQUlM5T2TQyg-9CCwsw1CgJNsJcMOLIrJEL-pmDpsanqCoKMgtXUtX2B2M6dxR6J29QKj3t0Le9SpvM3DxYX85u-0tG/s1600-h/merda.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446771665691083410" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU76ZVPdah-XhbwNwQ_J7jHOXzolhv7rQRssb7-rQUOBRbMIzg_KQUlM5T2TQyg-9CCwsw1CgJNsJcMOLIrJEL-pmDpsanqCoKMgtXUtX2B2M6dxR6J29QKj3t0Le9SpvM3DxYX85u-0tG/s320/merda.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"> Lisboa (Maio 2007)</span></div><br />Mas até nem parvo sou!<br />Nem tenho a defesa de poder ter opiniões sociais.<br />Não tenho, mesmo, defesa nenhuma: sou lúcido.<br /><br />Não me queiram converter a convicção: sou lúcido!<br /><br />Já disse: sou lúcido.<br />Nada de estéticas com coração: sou lúcido.<br />Merda! Sou lúcido.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">in <em>Cruzou por mim, veio ter comigo, numa rua da Baixa, </em></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>Álvaro de Campos (Fernando Pessoa)</em></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4965945066985091992.post-65224958214223372952010-03-05T00:50:00.007+00:002010-03-10T00:04:17.834+00:00houses rise and fall<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYCII87o3AxUn74zGHXmUxc6mQ9xuBqdX3cnV6fKivaWdMni3QRVfw9Zz8n9I2BT5ueqm-ra1O2BpxIMSqWWXjKV69LtJzTQtBbyx1DzNJx5Lm47234ANvMlREswkL_htVloCY0I93FA3O/s1600-h/P1020681-copy.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 269px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444946108969692354" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYCII87o3AxUn74zGHXmUxc6mQ9xuBqdX3cnV6fKivaWdMni3QRVfw9Zz8n9I2BT5ueqm-ra1O2BpxIMSqWWXjKV69LtJzTQtBbyx1DzNJx5Lm47234ANvMlREswkL_htVloCY0I93FA3O/s320/P1020681-copy.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">Madrid (Fevereiro 2010)</span><br /><br />In my beginning is my end. In succession<br />Houses rise and fall, crumble, are extended,<br />Are removed, destroyed, restored, or in their place<br />Is an open field, or a factory, or a by-pass.<br />Old stone to new building, old timber to new fires,<br />Old fires to ashes, and ashes to the earth<br />Which is already flesh, fur and faeces,<br />Bone of man and beast, cornstalk and leaf.<br />(...)<br /><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">East Coker/ Four Quartets, T.S. Eliot </span></em>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4965945066985091992.post-68625811209807796502010-03-04T00:35:00.001+00:002010-03-05T00:49:47.445+00:00if it's not love...<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitBvgOUzcoryhAz1llQo4y7dJBzjrY3P2QCjMzWqhCcRedA71XJi3h3TphyBALP3KBzLWB0MbM038ztUY4dmusT8qaPSjSKReGTXa-jXc7eLWElhbH3GFnFrkGK3IGUU298JHOZ0V_q2Et/s1600-h/P1020672.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444943671327443874" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitBvgOUzcoryhAz1llQo4y7dJBzjrY3P2QCjMzWqhCcRedA71XJi3h3TphyBALP3KBzLWB0MbM038ztUY4dmusT8qaPSjSKReGTXa-jXc7eLWElhbH3GFnFrkGK3IGUU298JHOZ0V_q2Et/s320/P1020672.JPG" /></a> <span style="font-size:78%;">Madrid (Janeiro 2010)</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"></span></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Beacause if </span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:100%;">it's not Love</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Then it's the Bomb</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:100%;">That will bring us together</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"></span></span></div><br /><div align="justify"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Ask, Morrissey (The Smiths)</span></em></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4965945066985091992.post-6032923142136578832010-03-02T22:51:00.002+00:002010-03-02T22:55:02.616+00:00gimme that spray paint, gimme those walls<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/FBUk6higtHE&hl=en_GB&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/FBUk6higtHE&hl=en_GB&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br /><em>gimme that punk, Audio Bullys</em>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4965945066985091992.post-72636362334258697392010-03-02T22:06:00.002+00:002010-03-02T22:47:17.918+00:00proibido proibir<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFnSNhkB6K4C70HMlT1jDtlQf0EBECfoJ8IIiPhTY0_MMfSUCtbXDxuClPWFCtWsU5clenh_14UibOQcjG4qERuK5R-oUV-fmIr1jJ37psBEBjjJGUCTQswe3veAriI341w0OIH8C0bCvl/s1600-h/P1020728.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444169538882722546" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFnSNhkB6K4C70HMlT1jDtlQf0EBECfoJ8IIiPhTY0_MMfSUCtbXDxuClPWFCtWsU5clenh_14UibOQcjG4qERuK5R-oUV-fmIr1jJ37psBEBjjJGUCTQswe3veAriI341w0OIH8C0bCvl/s320/P1020728.JPG" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"> Madrid (Fevereiro 2010)</span></div><br /><div align="justify">A high wall throws down a challenge. Protecting property, defending order, it is a target for protest and insult, as well as for demands of every sexual, political, or social persuasion. The French Revolution began by knocking down walls, those round the Bastille. Neither newspapers, nor posters have supplanted "the writing on the wall".</div><div align="justify"> </div><br /><div align="justify"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">The Language of the Wall, Brassaï</span></em></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4965945066985091992.post-54382751457333880902010-03-01T23:25:00.004+00:002010-03-01T23:39:40.497+00:00verde e amarelo<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEZfLawKAB8eKDpUtpqhI7G0aBVSyWzSNnZ3GfRffHNrIqvht03tt0f6ELVFNSnKEcvKHAZAmaHjOcUlGlg29xsP5jlfZ3IvPPbTd_ZNVnK4bjMJMk3iqt7oco_Wz5WjZbd3uhtfZMUM5q/s1600-h/P1020710.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443811188378898562" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEZfLawKAB8eKDpUtpqhI7G0aBVSyWzSNnZ3GfRffHNrIqvht03tt0f6ELVFNSnKEcvKHAZAmaHjOcUlGlg29xsP5jlfZ3IvPPbTd_ZNVnK4bjMJMk3iqt7oco_Wz5WjZbd3uhtfZMUM5q/s320/P1020710.JPG" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"> Madrid (Fevereiro 2010)<br /></span><br /></div><div align="justify">João amava Teresa que amava Raimundo<br />que amava Maria que amava Joaquim que amava Lili<br />que não amava ninguém.<br />(...) </div><div align="justify"> </div><br /><div align="justify"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Quadrilha, Carlos Drummond de Andrade</span></em></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4965945066985091992.post-15597299966911970442010-02-28T21:09:00.005+00:002010-03-02T23:04:19.445+00:00efémero<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0hRoOnCrVeblCWrPAM85r7C7d1Pbk1GjO4WNOCAwPxWMf0OQ14yOUqULefbMqH4Gwfs88OVtdn-gyYiwDSWdrqgrmR1YDjdvzd3BIftzVBb_A6pPO77TKhLkqnh_Gnp6S-2hcTjD9ha0g/s1600-h/sta+isabel.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443406358356715250" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0hRoOnCrVeblCWrPAM85r7C7d1Pbk1GjO4WNOCAwPxWMf0OQ14yOUqULefbMqH4Gwfs88OVtdn-gyYiwDSWdrqgrmR1YDjdvzd3BIftzVBb_A6pPO77TKhLkqnh_Gnp6S-2hcTjD9ha0g/s320/sta+isabel.JPG" /></a> <span style="font-size:78%;">Madrid (Outubro 2008)</span></div><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeUzuzte9FyFo9IRNmyKgIPgQrIyLXmfvAjzIvMWF0t1mWMJrnVlA9kWmOe2PLwc1nAVy4GBg5Pj895oStf0SH-OJKAV69zvpOZ3XlhsFTzEHcUwESajGP_rve_j56cgej6S3cIwvTG0_0/s1600-h/P1020685.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443405884076547378" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeUzuzte9FyFo9IRNmyKgIPgQrIyLXmfvAjzIvMWF0t1mWMJrnVlA9kWmOe2PLwc1nAVy4GBg5Pj895oStf0SH-OJKAV69zvpOZ3XlhsFTzEHcUwESajGP_rve_j56cgej6S3cIwvTG0_0/s320/P1020685.JPG" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"> Madrid (Fevereiro 2010)</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div><br /><div align="justify">A primeira vez que vi este graffiti lembrei-me das naturezas mortas do período barroco, com caveira e laranja a meio descascar - <em>vanitas vanitatum omnia vanitas</em> - representação simbólica da futilidade do mundo material face à certeza da morte. Passados dois anos, voltei a encontrar o mesmo desenho, agora mais estilizado, noutra zona de Madrid. Um e outro já foram apagados. A vida é efémera. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4965945066985091992.post-40326148165827057742010-02-22T23:35:00.008+00:002010-03-01T23:38:41.849+00:00poetas malditos<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6KRT-UgNujASoL07vKWU2a3M1rZJQmagB7CjVY5-wQe1YQ8yHMGnxVpF_I-cf7lqs8btmo0-dxpFJsEI3-yVp1QoYLVOxRA9kTCG-cfTVKbkO4FhanuwsztXbgpTlLFIJxb2LfdasH-T8/s1600-h/P1020671.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441216229823531906" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6KRT-UgNujASoL07vKWU2a3M1rZJQmagB7CjVY5-wQe1YQ8yHMGnxVpF_I-cf7lqs8btmo0-dxpFJsEI3-yVp1QoYLVOxRA9kTCG-cfTVKbkO4FhanuwsztXbgpTlLFIJxb2LfdasH-T8/s320/P1020671.JPG" /></a> <span style="font-size:78%;">Madrid (Janeiro, 2010)</span><br /><p align="justify">(...)<br />And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting<br />On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;<br />And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,<br />And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;<br />And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor<br />Shall be lifted - nevermore! </p><p align="justify"><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>The Raven, Edgar Allan Poe</em> </span></p></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4965945066985091992.post-68959185951952504982010-02-18T21:57:00.000+00:002010-02-28T21:54:19.098+00:00anjo ou demónio?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrhmOT6o6TnoEnLQpLpe9xYyK7hUF6tipyTdJR0MyhvXRtw1cUez7QLrDwvUZpa6qJ1uv7H2jNyjof23-sVRgevtOgdRYKLEhjNy14uYzzenKV8M7-Nnz6OrY7NO-RY3vxznN0ifYjCJ7u/s1600-h/P1020670.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438973537296164930" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrhmOT6o6TnoEnLQpLpe9xYyK7hUF6tipyTdJR0MyhvXRtw1cUez7QLrDwvUZpa6qJ1uv7H2jNyjof23-sVRgevtOgdRYKLEhjNy14uYzzenKV8M7-Nnz6OrY7NO-RY3vxznN0ifYjCJ7u/s320/P1020670.JPG" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU3L4XrKaK8fqqbqhWW5cttmlcjGOcoaDH5PiISJuPGgN6AMRWS49IdnGRclDxbgukPlFnMbFtX_sF43zhrzogpoWXVDtxQBPo7HF6M5bWNrtRv_kzexgQELCNbCQG5xJ3QHBdw4-P4F6n/s1600-h/P1020670.JPG"></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">Madrid (Janeiro, 2010)</span><br /><br />Anjo és. Mas que anjo és tu?<br />Em tua frente anuviada<br />Não vejo a c'roa nevada<br />Das alvas rosas do céu.<br />Em teu seio ardente e nu<br />Não vejo ondear o véu<br />Com que o sôfrego pudor<br />Vela os mistérios de amor.<br />Teus olhos têm negra a cor,<br />Cor de noite sem estrela;<br />A chama é vivaz e é bela,<br />Mas luz não tem. - Que anjo és tu?<br />Em nome de quem vieste?<br />Paz ou guerra me trouxeste<br />De Jeová ou Belzebu?<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Excerto de <em>Anjo és, Almeida Garrett</em></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4965945066985091992.post-10303403244189982112010-02-17T23:04:00.000+00:002010-02-28T21:53:51.762+00:00hombres grises<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiynjNYK3rhyU2ehimnqAzF8aTbrBmMKUV8mGzYuT2-GpJKzjk8hJwxnw8e0dzAwU-MheBv8VZR4Cd6VboxbZrycOrV7JI9HVWp4_sOww_3rOD2PNR8B33-eHMGItYThF0i7NWRkPwB56da/s1600-h/P1000733.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438985180976801074" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiynjNYK3rhyU2ehimnqAzF8aTbrBmMKUV8mGzYuT2-GpJKzjk8hJwxnw8e0dzAwU-MheBv8VZR4Cd6VboxbZrycOrV7JI9HVWp4_sOww_3rOD2PNR8B33-eHMGItYThF0i7NWRkPwB56da/s320/P1000733.JPG" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"> Madrid (Março, 2009)</span></div><div align="justify"><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:100%;">"Duas coisas só me deu o Destino: uns livros de contabilidade e o dom de sonhar."<br /></span></div></span><div align="justify"><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Livro do Desassossego, Bernardo Soares (Fernando Pessoa)</span></em></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4965945066985091992.post-84206078058879365562010-02-16T18:31:00.000+00:002010-02-22T22:58:10.435+00:00poema<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2fhR2D5gzS6XKaCmexz4IOiRsYS7xhfhvFqOsrl0JkXSBv2HmrhFaKQj27zbrKTenzEj7FEOsulwHsxClgkKQZoNlwUAesXUDYW2SaU2troTa9_MhHwg6ruvKHVlPMQftHErKcCdFFMii/s1600-h/P1010407.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438551993673666338" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2fhR2D5gzS6XKaCmexz4IOiRsYS7xhfhvFqOsrl0JkXSBv2HmrhFaKQj27zbrKTenzEj7FEOsulwHsxClgkKQZoNlwUAesXUDYW2SaU2troTa9_MhHwg6ruvKHVlPMQftHErKcCdFFMii/s320/P1010407.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">San Francisco (Maio, 2009)</span><br /><br />"Poema é toda a página aberta diante de mim, caligrafada de esperança e de calma."<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Miguel Torga, Portugal </span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4965945066985091992.post-27202663967089340022010-02-15T18:33:00.007+00:002010-02-15T19:04:43.261+00:00nós que passamos apressadosApagaram tudo<br />Pintaram tudo de cinza<br />A palavra no muro<br />Ficou coberta de tinta<br /><br />Apagaram tudo<br />Pintaram tudo de cinza<br />Só ficou no muro<br />Tristeza e tinta fresca<br /><br />Nós que passamos apressados<br />Pelas ruas da cidade<br />Merecemos ler as letras<br />E as palavras de <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mpDHQVhyUrY">Gentileza</a> <br /><br />(...)<br /><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Gentileza, Marisa Monte</span></em>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0