a rapariga do alfinete

...que trouxe o álbum e incendiou o Coliseu dos Recreios, na noite passada. Que espectáculo foi...!!! Aqui, fotografada soberbamente por Robert Mapplethorpe...há muitos muitos anos atrás!

Mona Hatoum Van Gogh's Back Mona Hatoum's Van Gogh's Back makes us jump mentally from the swirls of hair on the man's wet back to the starry skies of van Gogh's swirling paintwork. The enjoyment of such a photograph is based on our shift from registering a photographic image as a three-dimensional scene (something we respond to because of its presentation of a sculptural object or event that we trust once existed in the real world) and that of two-dimensional, graphic representation of the swirls of wet hair that we connect, via van Gogh, to a patterned sky. The interplay of two- and three-dimensional spaces is one of the great pleasures of looking at photographs.

A pillow book is a collection of notebooks or notes which have been collated to show a period of someone or somethings life. in Wikipedia

The Pillow Book is a book of observations and musings recorded by Sei Shōnagon during her time as court lady to Empress Sadako during the 990s and early 1000s in Heian Japan. The book was completed in the year 1002. In it she included lists of all kinds, personal thoughts, interesting events in court, poetry and some opinions on her contemporaries. While it is mostly a personal work, Shōnagon's writing and poetic skill makes it interesting as a work of literature, and it is valuable as an historical document. Part of it was revealed to the Court by accident during Shōnagon's life. The book has been translated into English by Ivan Morris in 1967 and in 2006 by Meredith McKinney.

Um monge disse uma noite aos seus discípulos: - A lua está bela esta noite. Agarrem-na! Os discípulos muniram-se de compridos talos e procuraram fazê-la descer. Mas as coisas não corriam bem. - Subam para o telhado! - ordenou o monge. Nada a fazer. - Agarrem em ganchos! E, desta vez, a lua caiu no poço. Precisaram, então, de um balde para a repescar. O monge levava-a para casa quando um dos discípulos perguntou: - Mestre, que vai fazer com a lua? - Ah, tens razão! É uma questão que eu ainda não tinha colocado. (História tradicional do budismo zen)

Em silêncio descobri essa cidade no mapa a toda a velocidade: gota sombria. Descobri as poeiras que batiam como peixes no sangue. A toda a velocidade, em silêncio, no mapa - como se descobre uma letra de outra cor no meio das folhas, estremecendo nos ulmos, em silêncio. Gota sombria num girassol - essa letra, essa cidade em silêncio, batendo como sangue. Era a minha cidade ao norte do mapa, numa velocidade chamada mundo sombrio. Seus peixes estremeciam como letras no alto das folhas, poeiras de outra cor: girassol que se descobre como uma gota no mundo. Descobri essa cidade, aplainando tábuas lentas como rosas vigiadas pelas letras dos espinhos. Era em silêncio como uma gota de seiva lenta numa tábua aplainada. Descobri que tinha asas como uma pêra que desce. E a essa velocidade voava para mim aquela cidade do mapa. Eu batia como os peixes batendo dentro do sangue - peixes em silêncio, cheios de folhas. Eu escrevia, aplainando na tábua todo o meu silêncio. E a seiva sombria vinha escor...

Ontem, a noite foi bem divertida e animada! O ambiente era muito agradável e descontraído e o workshop foi bem proveitoso, mesmo para quem, no que toca à dança, tem dois pés esquerdos...como eu própria! :) Obrigada, Irma, por te lembrares sempre destes programas originalíssimos!

Head Series Philip-Lorca diCorcia 2000 DiCorcia's Head Series was made by placing flash lighting on construction scaffolding above a busy New York street, out of sight of the passers-by below. The movements of the pedestrians activated the flash, at which moment diCorcia photographed the illuminated stranger with a long-lens camera. The resulting images show people who do not know that they are being photographed and so do not compose themselves for their 'portraits'. In 2006, a New York trial court issued a ruling in a case involving one of his photographs. diCorcia had set up elaborate strobe rigs on a New York City street corner and had photographed people walking down the street, including Emo Nussenzweig, an Orthodox Jew who objected on religious grounds to deCorcia's publishing in an artistic exhibition a photograph taken of him without his permission. The photo's subject argued that his privacy and religious rights had been violated by both the taking and pub...

Velhinha esta musiquinha...! E em playback, no Zig-Zag na RTP em 1985... :)

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart) i am never without it (anywhere i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling) i fear no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true) and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you here is the deepest secret nobody knows (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide) and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart) 'Poem 92' E. E. Cummings '95 Poems'

You are the flame in my heart You light my way in the dark You are the ultimate star You lift me up from above Your unconditional love Takes me to paradise I belong to you And you You belong to me too You make my life complete You make me feel so sweet You make me feel so divine Your soul and mine are entwined Before you I was blind But since I've opened my eyes And with you there's no disguise So I could open up my mind I always loved you from the start But I could not figure out That I had to do it everyday So I put away the fight Now I'm gonna live my life Giving you the most in every way I belong to you And you You belong to me too You make my life complete You make me feel so sweet Oh I belong to you I belong to you And you, you You belong to me too You make my life complete You make me feel so sweet Oh I belong to you I belong to you And you, you You belong to me too You make my life complete You make my life complete You make me feel so sweet Oh I belong to you I bel...

Fazem falta sempre aqueles - poucos - que nos saúdam e brindam de saudade quando nos chega - de surdina - o roçar dos pensamentos da lonjura e da lembrança... Falta fazem aqueles que não desvirtuam - por temor ou condição - a nudez dos laços estreitados de inocência e rubores de fantasia onde apenas o prazer da entrega se recreia sem aperto de renúncias nem amarras de paixões lídimo de quimeras e desígnios excomungados... Fazem falta aqueles que nos dissipam fráguas estendendo a mão de ternura acarinhada quando as lágrimas adivinham e prometem alvoradas pagãs de sofrimento tisnadas de um cinza quase húmido de solidão entristecida... ...quando os ventres se fecundam de amargura e os seios se deslaçam de abandono... ...quando os olhos se perdem - fugitivos - no vazio dos chãos e os braços desertam ilusões em núpcias de névoas e desgostos que o silêncio, sem recato, põe a nu... Falta me fazem os meus amores meus pares no meu sonho mais dilecto rufando aromas em rusgas de tambores no meu ...

Angelique Kidjo - Gimme Shelter (feat. Joss Stone)

Don't ask me What you know is true Don't have to tell you I love your precious heart I I was standing You were there Two worlds collided And they could never tear us apart We could live For a thousand years But if I hurt you I'd make wine from your tears I told you That we could fly 'Cause we all have wings But some of us don't know why I I was standing You were there Two worlds collided And they could never ever tear us apart 'Never tear us apart' INXS

Roy Lichtenstein 1964

You give me this love You give me this love Touch my garden Rain clouds, mountains Sunshine all day long La la la la la la .... Sunrise, meadows Oceans, rainbows Starlight, all day long La la la la la la .... Golden, new world Rain clouds, mountains Ride my pony Ride him slowly Smiling, all day long You give me this love You give me this love You give me this love You give me this love... La la la la la la ....

"Why are you so far away?" she said "Why won't you ever know that I'm in love with you That I'm in love with you"

Let it never be said The Romance is dead 'Cause there's so little else Occupying my head There is nothing I need except the function to breathe But I'm not really fussed Doesn't matter to me Ruby, Ruby, Ruby, Ruby Do you, do you, do you, do you Know what you're doing, doing, to me Ruby, Ruby, Ruby, Ruby Due to lack of interest Tomorrow is canceled Let the clocks be reset And the pendulums held 'Cause there's nothing at all Except the space in-between Finding out what you're called And repeating your name Could it be, could it be That you're joking with me? And you don't really see you and me Ruby, Ruby, Ruby, Ruby Do you, do you, do you, do you Know what you're doing, doing, to me Ruby, Ruby, Ruby, Ruby Do you, do you, do you, do you Know what you're doing, doing, to me

Her ivory hands on the ivory keys Strayed in a fitful fantasy, Like the silver gleam when the poplar trees Rustle their pale-leaves listlessly, Or the drifting foam of a restless sea When the waves show their teeth in the flying breeze. Her gold hair fell on the wall of gold Like the delicate gossamer tangles spun On the burnished disk of the marigold, Or the sunflower turning to meet the sun When the gloom of the dark blue night is done, And the spear of the lily is aureoled. And her sweet red lips on these lips of mine Burned like the ruby fire set In the swinging lamp of a crimson shrine, Or the bleeding wounds of the pomegranate, Or the heart of the lotus drenched and wet With the spilt-out blood of the rose-red wine. 'In the gold room - a harmony' Oscar Wilde

There is a fire in me Fire that burns Fire that burns This fire...

Tu lhes dirás, meu amor, que nós não existimos. Que nascemos da noite, das árvores, das nuvens. Que viemos, amámos, pecámos e partimos Como a água das chuvas. Tu lhes dirás, meu amor, que ambos nos sorrimos Do que dizem e pensam E que a nossa aventura, É no vento que passa que a ouvimos, É no nosso silêncio que perdura. Tu lhes dirás, meu amor, que nós não falaremos E que enterrámos vivo o fogo que nos queima. Tu lhe dirás, meu amor, se for preciso, Que nos espreguiçaremos na fogueira. 'Na Mesa do Santo Ofício' Ary dos Santos

...ali, nas Portas de Brandenburg, vira-se à direita e...já se está de volta a casa! :) Infelizmente, não é bem assim...mas era tão bom se Berlim fosse já ao virar da esquina! É uma cidade fantástica, repleta de vida e de cultura e que nos contagia com a sua alegria, não importa o frio que esteja...!

...then we take Berlin! I suppose we could leave Manhattan out this time....right, guys? ;)

'não há acasos no encontro e desencontro das pessoas. (...) o tecido desse encontro e desencontro existe e serve para alguma coisa.' Nuno Bragança Square Tolstoi (1981)

You're a falling star, You're the get away car. You're the line in the sand when I go too far. You're the swimming pool, on an August day. And you're the perfect thing to say. And you play it coy, but it's kinda cute. Ah, When you smile at me you know exactly what you do. Baby don't pretend, that you don't know it's true. Cause you can see it when I look at you. [Chorus:] And in this crazy life, and through these crazy times It's you, it's you, You make me sing. You're every line, you're every word, you're everything. You're a carousel, you're a wishing well, And you light me up, when you ring my bell. You're a mystery, you're from outer space, You're every minute of my everyday. And I can't believe, uh that I'm your man, And I get to kiss you baby just because I can. Whatever comes our way, ah we'll see it through, And you know that's what our love can do. [Chorus:] And in this crazy life, and ...

Aqui sentada, sobre as pernas cruzadas e as tábuas corridas do soalho da casa, assisto ao minguar da luz e dos seus reflexos de fim de tarde sobre as fachadas e as janelas dos prédios indistintamente antigos da rua. As cores parecem vagas e irmãs, banhadas a esta mesma luz, e só os contornos das varandas de ferro conseguem estimular o olhar a descobrir as diferenças. Penso no olhar. Fascina-me o olhar. Fascina-me a diferença registada pelo olhar e o olhar que regista a diferença. Fascina-me o fio de vida que o olhar move em direcção ao outro. Fascina-me a teia de fios que o olhar cospe no pensamento e que recolhe no olhar que é devolvido. Fascina-me a violência da palavra que rasga os nós do silêncio e que se enlaça nos fios breves do momento, suspenso no ar. Olho para o tecto, quase etéreo de tão branco ser, e entretenho-me a pensar como o olhar é amplo, bem mais amplo que o soalho da casa, onde posso estender-me. E é quase instintivo o assustar-me na percepção de que o olhar pode pre...