Welcome Camila!

instashots

seven is a magic number

instashots

i'm transforming,i'm vibrating....

"all of our days are numbered.we cannot afford to be idle.to act on a bad idea is better than not to act at all. because the worth of the idea never becomes apparent untill you do it.sometimes this idea can be the smallest thing in the world;a little flame that you hunch over and cup with your hand and pray will not be extinguished by all the storm that howls about.if you can hold on to that flame,great things can be constructed around it,that are massive and powerful and world changing.all held up by the tiniest of ideas(...)this shimering space where imagination and reality intersect,this is where all love and tears and joy exist.this is the place.this is where we live".

a thousand miles away...

...somewhere, not here.

cloud surfing,soul searching...

..."and some people say it's just rock'n roll. Oh, but it gets you right down to your soul"...

womanhood

no regrets and in love with life. so grateful to everyone that has held my hand throughout the years. may we keep shining. may we be filled with love and beauty... and may we always hear the music.
j

pick a cloud, travel the universe

Ruy Bacelar - Paris 77

"Reach out and take it all in as you go!"

home is where my heart is.

..."where i needn't, ever, be at home to those i am not at home with"...

W.H. Auden

memo

"i just want to be me.

when i can, i will try to understand

that when i can,i will."

thank you for the reminder, Zack ;)

heartful ♥

"and one day we will die

and our ashes will fly 

from the aeroplane over the sea.

but for know we are young

let us lay in the sun

and count every beautiful thing we can see.

love to be in the arms 

of all i'm keeping here with me."

sweet sixteen

i was 16 and you were 22.

we fell in love

and this was our song.

we promised the world to eachother

but the world wasn't ours to promise.

you broke my heart.

so

we never got to live happily ever after.

the end

♥
j

ufo spotting

i'm hitching a ride. just take me somewhere nice.

i love......

...bad boys.

breathtaking...

sometimes this is all i need to feel happy and i think i'm a very lucky girl because of that. j

"the only truth is music"
Jack Kerouac

it's halloween. let's take our masks off.

"It doesn't happen all at once - said the Skin Horse - you become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don´t matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

The Velveteen Rabbit

Margery Williams

...

pure bliss

“A few times in my life I have had moments of absolute clarity. when for a few brief seconds the silence drowns all the noise and I can feel rather than think. and things seem so sharp and the world seems so fresh as though it had all come into existence. I can never make these moments last. I cling to them but like everything they fade. I’ve lived my life on these moments. they pull me back to the present and I realize that everything is exactly the way it was meant to be.”

Tom Ford

A Single man

contos de fadas

correste a dizer que o dia vinha às portas da saudade.
e cobriste de mil cores as varandas da cidade.
a cantar enrouqueceste mil canções feitas à toa.
dançaste todas as ruas embriagadas de Lisboa.
leste os clássicos do tempo como toda a novidade
e a sonhar adormeceste no prazer da liberdade.
inventando mil amigos, esquecendo velhos perigos.
acordaste em sobressalto do teu sonho meio ferido.
dos confins do pesadelo, no limite dos sentidos.
soçobrado na ideia mais ou menos dolorosa
que te negavam medonhos os teus planos cor-de-rosa.
e na fúria dos enganados, na febre dos desvalidos,
na razão dos maltratados entre abraços desabridos.
no delírio prematuro...ainda foste forte e duro...
roda a espiral da história entre as garras da agonia.
diz adeus, ó meu amor, que eu hei-de voltar um dia.
e deixo-te uma palavrinha para te lembrares de mim...
Fausto Bordalo Dias

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two years today. 

may you shine on, beautiful girl ★

letting the light in

rain dogs

she walked the streets at nightfall, no coat, barefooted, just letting the rain soak her through. men and women, hurrying home, touched her accidentally as they rushed by. crowded streets was what she looked for. all she had to do was to slightly stretch her arm out. just enough so that she'd feel a hand rubbing against hers. through the rain the flashlights of the cars were smudged into different shades of yellow and red, sometimes interrupted by someones body under an umbrella. she didn't really like umbrellas. they covered people up. coats and shoes did too. on some nights her feet would hurt badly. some abandoned piece of glass on the sidewalk happened to be in her way. abandoned people would get in her way too, but that didn't really hurt so much. as the streets became silent and scarce she´d take a turn on a chosen street. she'd go into a dark alley. those where accidents happen. she new she'd find someone just like her. no story, no past. no words. just a soaked shadow in the rainy night with an arm stretched out so that, maybe, it would touch her hand. just a silhouette without a coat on, without an umbrella and with scars on its feet...

"will i see you tonight? on a downtown train? where every night it's just the same, oh! baby. will i see you tonight? on a downtown train? all of my dreams, they fall like rain on a downtown train..."
j

shades of grey

"sometimes the bad guys maintain their grip, sometimes the good days fade. we try not to lose our hearts, not to lose our minds..."
Yo La Tengo

Deeper...

"he poured it in her ear, the idea of him on top, slowing time down to enter her, convincing her that everything would stay between them, with his back to the air and her bottom on the mattress, their motions surrounded by the smell of love and fabric softner. she wanted him behind her, a position of trust, tossing aside suspicions of what he might do behind her back and how easily he could hide who else he might be thinking of. but he did not want to look over her shoulder, he wanted to be in her eyes, moving his hips in slow-clock wise rotation, making the cold stone expression on her face crumble. she'd been wearing her countenance that way since the first day they met, after one lover refused to stay inside her and another was so indecisive, she was forced to mount the problem and dominate. but no more. and she cried because he did everything he said he would do to her but when he was finished, he did not leave."
Quentin Huff

music makes me fly

you know, Nick...

stormy weather...

"the stars and the moon aren't where they're supposed to be..."

living it up...

"after all there are such things and these are the things who'll turn your memories back into dreams again. oh! it's all flying and waving for you to keep trying. you're so close... all the returns one of these days...one of these days..."
Ricky Lee Jones

bucket list...

"those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night."
Edgar Allan Poe

lullaby...

"in Xanadu di Kubla Khan a stately pleasure-dome decree: 

where Alph, the sacred river, ran through caverns measurless to man..."

Samuel Taylor Coleridge

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Paredes de Coura 2014

super...super song

super...super cover

girls just wanna have fun ;)

hunger...

sleeplessly embracing
butterflies and needles
line my seamed-up join
encased in case i need it
in my stomach, for my heart
chain mail
hunger of the pine
sleeplessly embracing
yawn yearns into me
plenty more tears in the sea
and so you finally use it
bedding with me you see at night
your heart wears knight armour
hunger of the pine
i'm a female rebel
sleeplessly
embracing
you
realization grew on me
as quickly as it takes your hand
to warm the cool side of the pillow
i'm there for you, be there for me
i'll hum the song the soldiers sing
as they march outside our window
hunger of the pine
i'm a female rebel
sleeplessly
embracing you

une immense espérance a traversée la terre
une immense espérance a traversée ma peur
alt-J

 

...and they're just clouds. they come and go...

rows and flows of angel hair
and ice cream castles in the air
and feather canyons everywhere,
i've looked at clouds that way.

but now they only block the sun,
they rain and snow on everyone.
so many things I would have done,
but clouds got in my way.

i've looked at clouds from both sides now,
from up and down and still somehow,
it's cloud's illusions I recall,
i really don't know clouds at all.

moons and junes and ferris wheels, 

the dizzy dancing way that you feel
as every fairy tale comes real,
i've looked at love that way.

but now it's just another show,
you leave 'em laughing when you go
and if you care, don't let them know,
don't give yourself away.

i've looked at love from both sides now,
from give and take and still somehow,
it's love's illusions I recall,

i really don't know love at all.

tears and fears and feeling proud,
to say "I love you" right out loud.
dreams and schemes and circus crowds,
i've looked at life that way.

oh but now old friends they're acting strange,
they shake their heads, they say I've changed.
well something's lost but something's gained,
in living every day.
i've looked at life from both sides now,
from win and lose and still somehow,
it's life's illusions I recall,
i really don't know life at all.

Joni Mitchell

...a hazardous journey for such delicate creatures...

...it makes me see what i want to see and be what i want to be...

soul food

take a trip to the here and now

Connect with that raw essence of the spirit of dancing and let your mind go away for a little bit and experience something through music...

o melhor do Primavera Sound

06.06.2014

peace...

home...

Julho 2013

all she wanted 

was to find a place to stretch her bones,

a place to lengthen her smiles

and spread her hair.

a place where her legs could walk

without cutting and bruising.

a place unchained.

she was born out of ocean breath...

Tapiwa Mugabe

do you want a revolution?

"i sometimes feel like an alien creature for which there is no earthly explanation. sure i have  human form, walking erect with oposing digits but my mind is upside down. i feel like a run on sentence in a punctuation crazy world and i see the world around me like a mad collective dream, an endless stream of people move like ants on the freeway. cell phones, PC's and digital displays. in money we trust, we'll find happiness, prevailing attitude. like a genetically modified, irradiated big mac that's somehow symbolic of food. morality is legislated, prisons over populated, religion is incorporated. the profit motive has permeated all activity. we pay our government to let us park on the street and war is the biggest money makers of all. we all know missile envy only comes from being small. politicians and prostitutes are comfortable together. i wonder if they talk about the strange change in the weather. this government was founded by, of and for the people but everybody feels it's like a giant open sore. they don’t represent us anymore. and blaming the president for the countries' woes is like yelling at a puppet for the way it sings. who’s the man behind the curtain pulling the strings? a billion people sitting watching their TV in a room that they call living. but as for me, I see living as loving. and since there is no loving room I sit on the grass under a tree dreaming of the way things used to be. pre-industrial revolution. which of course was before the rivers and oceans and skies were polluted. before parkinsons and mad cows and all the conveluted cacafony of bad ideas like skyscrapers and tree paper and earth rapers like monsanto and dupont had there ways as they continue to today. this was pre-us. back when the buffalo roamed and the Indian's home was the forest and god was nature and heaven was here and now. can you imagine clean water and food and air, living in community with animals and people who care? do you dare to feel responsible for every dollar you lay down? you're gonna make the rich man richer or you're gonna stand your ground? you say you want a revolution, a communal evolution, to be a part of the solution...?

Maybe I’ll be seeing you around…..”
Woody Harrelson

mindfulness...

instashots
21.02.2014

(...)
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
(...)
in Auguries of Innocence
by William Blake

into the wild...

sufocada pelo cimento, pela altura dos edifícios, por aquele cheiro da cidade. deslocada…desfocada… os olhos procuram a vida no meio do caos. entra no carro e acelera. é urgente sair dali. uma voz chama-a para a floresta. tens que vir... não esperes mais... não adies mais... o cimento e o barulho vão ficando para trás. pára o carro. não vais precisar mais dele. corre, corre…tira as sandálias. os pés descalços batem com força no chão. a erva pisada liberta um cheiro familiar. e a cada salto começa a rodopiar e os rodopios levam-lhe o vestido, soltam-lhe o cabelo. corre, corre…não esperes mais – sussurra a voz que a impele para a floresta. o corpo solta-se largando camadas de pele, pele da cidade, pele cinzenta de cimento. por leves instantes olha para trás. vê-se em mil pedaços espalhada pelo chão. coisas que foi deixando pelo caminho. corre! não olhes! e os braços atiram-na para o ar, apontam para o céu, viram-se e tomam a direcção da montanha que a chama. com o vento fresco vem o cheiro a terra. sente a maciez do musgo e das folhas debaixo dos pés. e a voz que a chama diz-lhe que não pare. nua, corre entre as árvores. sente o bater do coração. o pulsar da floresta. respira!… deixa que ela te transforme. uma dor aguda atravessa-lhe o corpo. grita. hesita… tem medo… olha para trás. grita cada vez mais alto. deixa-te levar, liberta-te. não hesites… não podes! sabes que te esperam. sabes que o que ficou para trás já se perdeu no tempo. há muito tempo...
j

little seeds...

"an idea comes - and you see it, and you hear it, and you know it...we don't do anything without an idea. so they're beautiful gifts. and i always say, you desiring an idea is like a bait on a hook - you can pull them in. and if you catch an idea that you love, that's a beautiful, beautiful day. and you write that idea down so that you won't forget it. and that idea that you caught might just be the fragment of the hole - whatever it is you're working on - but now you have even more bait. they come, more often than not, in small fragments..."
David Lynch

memos...

on clouds and men...

René Magritte

(...)

"If you prefer,

I’ll be pure raging meat,

Or if you prefer,

as the sky changes tone,

I'll be absolutely tender,

not a man, but a cloud in trousers!"
Vladimir Mayakovsky

...just scatter it all in the sea.

"This garden that I built for you, that you sit in now and yearn. i will never leave it, dear, i could not bear to return and find it all untended. with the trees all bended low. this garden is our home, dear, and I got nowhere else to go. so bring it on, bring it on, every little tear, bring it on, every useless fear, bring it on, all your shattered dreams... and I'll scatter them into the sea, into the sea. the geraniums on your window sill, the carnations, dear, and the daffodil... well, they're ordinary flowers but they long for the light of your touch... and of your trembling will. ah, you're trembling still and I am trembling too. to be perfectly honest i don't know quite what else to do. so bring it on, bring it on, every neglected dream, bring it on, every little scheme, bring it on, every little fear... and I'll make them disappear. so bring it on, bring it on, every little thing, bring it on, every tiny fear, bring it on, every shattered dream... and I'll scatter them into the sea."
Nick Cave

just for now...

"getting close by going far away. going far by staying here. to the kind of place where loneliness is travelling best. leaving ill and well alone. it all fails...all fails. let the clock strike upon this resting hour. for now...for now...leaving point depair, leaving point hope. getting lot to find a way back home. getting back by letting go. make another fall in the flow of things. and death is just a breath away, but so is life. saying this, but knowing not which scares the most. for now...for now...leaving point despair, leaving point hope. whatever worry running through the veins. when you go, we go. whatever worry, raise the flair. when you're there, you're there. getting close, abandoning point home. leaving point despair. looking up from the rush of things in the point of life that is now. a point of life...for now."
Thomas Feiner

Eternal sunshine...

...just passing through...

on music...

"that music always round me, unceasing, unbeginning, yet   long untaught i did not hear,

but now the chorus I hear and am elated,

a tenor, strong, ascending with power and health, with glad notes of daybreak i hear,

a soprano at intervals sailing buoyantly over the tops of
immense waves,

a transparent base shuddering lusciously under and through the universe,

the triumphant tutti, the funeral wailings with sweet flutes and violins, all these i fill myself with,
i hear not the volumes of sound merely, i am moved by the   exquisite meanings,

i listen to the different voices winding in and out, striving, contending with fiery vehemence to excel each other in emotion;

i do not think the performers know themselves - but now i think begin to know them."

Walt Whitman

respira...

naquela manhã de Novembro acordou diferente. respirou fundo. quase que podia sentir que o corpo já não lhe pertencia. invadiu-a uma euforia, talvez como aquela que, quando da beira de uma falésia, se toma a decisão de cair para o vazio. respirou. com o corpo tomado pelo coração, corria nele uma energia que estranhou por já não a sentir há tanto tempo. deixou-se ficar longamente debaixo do chuveiro, respirando. não há pressa quando sabemos que amanhã já não vem. escolheu uma roupa confortável e quente. lembra-se que estava um dia frio. saiu de casa com uma lista imaginada de tudo que queria fazer e uma lucidez tal que, quem se cruzasse com ela na rua e lhe olhasse os olhos, quase poderia ler o que ali estava escrito. correu as ruas, de tarefa em tarefa, como se debaixo dos pés, a guiá-la, estivessem uns carris que só a deixassem ir por ali. e respirou. estava muito consciente da respiração. o ar frio de Novembro entrava-lhe pelas narinas, chegava aos pulmões e transformava-se num líquido quente que partia a aquecer o resto do corpo. ao cair da noite, já em casa, trancou a porta. lembra-se do prazer desse gesto. de se fechar ao mundo. de ficar inacessível, incomunicável. respirou e sentiu-se livre. tão livre que de novo sentiu aquela euforia da manhã. como se o tempo tivesse parado ou já não se medisse por horas, minutos ou segundos. porque o tempo é diferente quando sabemos que amanhã já não vem. e o coração bateu mais forte. estava a chegar a hora. respirou. pôs a tocar a música escolhida, acendeu dezenas de velas e, na calma da noite, escreveu um pequeno bilhete. corria o risco desse bilhete lhe alterar os planos. mas tinha que o escrever. e não. não havia planos para alterar porque só existia aquele. não cumpri-lo implicava voltar para aquele sítio escuro de dor e pesadelo, implicava voltar para aquela rotina insuportável e louca, implicava um grande nada. não. essa possibilidade estava completamente fora de questão. das últimas coisas de que se lembra é do telemóvel a tocar ("Sou eu. tenho tantas saudades tuas. sabes? liguei-te porque estou a ouvi-lo em directo na radio. está a tocar a nossa música!") e do adeus.
e o corpo quente a desfazer-se. a viajar no espaço. leve. tão leve... j

"i am blinding. autoluminescent. i am white heat. i am heaven sent. i was a nightmare but i'm not gonna go there, again. into the black hole, the house of no contest. make mine a meteor. rise me above the rest. i'm soaring through outer space. there is no better place to be. i'm bigger than Jesus Christ. i'm greater than God in light. i am dangerous. i cut like the sharpest knife. i'm going nova and i hope i can hold her, in. into the darkness, i gave away myself. slipped on the spiral stairs, tumbling down the well. i fell on a soft spot. i'm white heat, i'm white hot. again..."

Rowland S. Howard (1959-2009)

Be not inhospitable to strangers...

foi numa tarde quente de Agosto que te vi pela primeira vez. como já era hábito, passeava sem rumo por Paris. aventurei-me por ruelas escondidas, refúgios de amores proibidos e de revoluções sonhadas. ao chegar ao Sena, avistei a livraria. encantou-me o nome gravado a dourado na fachada verde e amarela. encantaram-me os livros empilhados em caixotes à porta e a pequena esplanada. entrei à procura de um livro e acabei por me perder pelas estantes e pelas frases escritas nas paredes. pegaste-me na mão e levaste-me pelas escadas acima. pedi-te um livro e tu ofereceste-me um chá e viagens. lá em cima moravam memórias e anémonas bravias. falaste-me do teu avô e de Tânger. daquela janela com vista sobre o Sena, perdemo-nos nas ruas do Cairo procurando por Melissa nos bordéis e nas casas de ópio. naquela tarde quente de Agosto, levados por uma corrente quente do golfo, descobrimos as costas de África. pelos ventos fomos levados para o deserto onde escrevemos palavras intermináveis na areia. ao cair da noite, debaixo das estrelas, ouvi-te dizer que o amor era apenas permitido às mulheres que primeiro se entregassem ao mar e às árvores. naquele dia quente de Agosto, daquela janela com vista sobre o Sena, ouviram-se gargalhadas e tangos, passos de dança e promessas.
j

yes she does...

love you live #2

♥

close encounters

One sunny summer morning i was sitting on the grass in the middle of a garden. you approached me silently and, quite carefully, sat beside me. without saying a word, you ripped a square out of your newspaper and started dancing around it with your fingers. in just a few seconds there was a bird in your hands. you gave it to me with a big smile on your face. then, you stood up and waved goodbye. i never saw you again but the bird, i still keep it. it's a reminder that, in life, you must be opened hearted to everyone you meet. who knows you'll come upon an angel in disguise?
j

who are we? where are we going?

"a horrible feeling of desolation pinched my heart. i listened rigid but heard nothing but the creep of blood in my ears. great and shadowy and strange was the world and i drifted solitary through its vast mysteries. a remote faint question, where i might be, drifted and vanished again in my head. i found myself standing astonished, my emotions penetrated by something i could not understand. i felt naked. i felt as perhaps a bird may feel in the clear air knowing the hawk wings above and will swoop. i began to feel the need of fellowship. i wanted to question, wanted to speak, wanted to relate my experience. what is this spirit in man that urges him forever to depart from happiness, to toil and to place himself in danger? it was this restlessness, this insecurity perhaps that drove me further and further afield in my exploring expedition. as the hush of the evening crept over the world, the sun touched the mountains and became very swiftly a blazing hemisphere of liquid flame, and sank. then, slow and soft and wrapping the world in fold after fold of deepening blue, came the night. and then, the splendor of the sight - in the sky, one bright planet shone kindly and steadily like the face of an old friend. the full temerity of my voyage suddenly came upon me. at last i began to feel the pull of the earth upon my being, drawing me back again to the life that is real, for men."

watering my wings...

   

"i am a bird girl.

i am a bird girl, now.

i've got my heart

here in my hands.

i've got my heart

here in my hands, now.

and i have been searching

 for my wings,

and i have been searching

for my wings, sometime.

i'm gonna be born

into soon the sky.

'cause i'm a bird girl

and the bird girls go to heaven.

i am a bird girl

and the bird girls can fly."

F...

on m’a dit que tu es loin, en Grèce. que tu fais un voyage de deuil. je monte les escaliers jusqu’à chez toi. j’ouvre la porte et tu m’attends là: peint sur le mur. ton visage, tes yeux bleus que me regardent. la musique que je connais si bien, joue au « pick-up ». tes livres, dérangés au sol et sur les étagères, me parlent de toi. ton lit, foiré, me raconte des histoires d’autres nuits, d’autres amours.  bien que tu ne sois pas là, je sens que tu t’approches. doucement, très doucement...j’adore t’écouter dire mon nom. que tu le murmures... on joue et on boit de l’ouzo pendant que tu me racontes tes voyages. tu m’attends toujours à bras ouverts, m’embrassant très fort comme si j’étais partie pour toujours. on sort les nuits, les mains serrées forts, à peur qu’on se perd l’un de l’autre. et on se promène, riant comme deux fous amoureux. one day i told you i had burnt your letters. you laughed and said it could not be. à chaque nuit, nos corps se font des adieux passionnés. on sait que tout a un fin. nous savons également qu’il y a des moments qui durent pour l’éternité. je t'ai rencontré dans la rue, au Marais. et au milieu d’un jardin, à Montmartre. but those creaky wooden stairs, that took me to your door at nº11, rue de Vaugirard, shall always lead the way to Paris, qui, avec toi, sera toujours une fête.
j

home is where i lay my head

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