Guarda tu agora o que eu, subitamente, perdi
talvez para sempre ― a casa e o cheiro dos livros,
a suave respiração do tempo, palavras, a verdade,
camas desfeitas algures pela manhã,
o abrigo de um corpo agitado no seu sono. Guarda-o

serenamente e sem pressa, como eu nunca soube.
E protege-o de todos os invernos ― dos caminhos
de lama e das vozes mais frias. Afaga-lhe
as feridas devagar, com as mãos e os lábios,
para que jamais sangrem. E ouve, de noite,
a sua respiração cálida e ofegante
no compasso dos sonhos, que é onde esconde
os mais escondidos medos e anseios.

Não deixes nunca que se ouça sozinho no que diz
antes de adormecer. E depois aguarda que,
na escuridão do quarto, seja ele a abraçar-te,
ainda que não te tenha revelado uma só vez o que queria.

Acorda mais cedo e demora-te a olhá-lo à luz azul
que os dias trazem à casa quando são tranquilos.
E nada lhe peças de manhã ― as manhãs pertencem-lhe;
deixa-o a regar os vasos na varanda e sai,
atravessa a rua enquanto ainda houver sol. E assim
haverá sempre sol e para sempre o terás,
como para sempre o terei perdido eu, subitamente,
por assim não ter feito.

Maria do Rosário Pedreira

Working from home for the first time be like

Reading everything at the same time ^^

I just realized

I have been keeping this digital box of pretty things for 10 years now. Horray :)

"Não importava que a história já tivesse começado, porque há muito que o kathakali descobriu que o segredo das Grandes Histórias é elas não terem segredo nenhum. As Grandes Histórias são aquelas que já ouvimos e queremos voltar a ouvir. Aquelas onde podemos entrar e morar confortavelmente. Que não nos enganam com calafrios e finais acrobáticos. Que não nos surpreendem com o imprevisto. Que são tão familiares como a casa onde moramos. Ou o cheiro da pele de um amante. Sabemos como acabam, porém ouvimo-las como se não soubéssemos. Tal como, embora sabendo que um dia havemos de morrer, vivemos como se não o soubéssemos. Nas Grandes Histórias sabemos quem vive, quem morre, quem encontra o amor e quem não encontra. E, contudo, queremos saber de novo."

Arundhati Roy, O Deus das Pequenas Coisas

Sometimes a new year has to begin for you to watch a movie that makes you feel beauty deep inside...

“Be the kiss in my hair
that no one sees

move, when I move
sigh, when I sigh...

Be that line from a poem
that I hold in my eyes"

Sanober Khan

"We rise by lifting others."

Robert Ingersoll 

For it's true, you are my destiny

"When you hold my hand I understand
The magic that you do
You're my dream come true
My one and only you."

Dear friend

My dear,
Find what you love and let it kill you.
Let it drain you of your all. Let it cling onto your back and weigh you down into eventual nothingness.
Let it kill you and let it devour your remains.
For all things will kill you, both slowly and fastly, but it’s much better to be killed by a lover.

Unknown

"A tua luz estava apagada. Agora voltou" :)

And the weekend was...

Dreamland on Earth

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,
      Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
      For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
      I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
      My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
      Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
      Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
      How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
      I am the captain of my soul.

Making my day a whole lot better

I'm sorry

Loving a woman is the hardest thing you ever had to do.

O Rio

Ser como o rio que deflui
Silencioso dentro da noite.
Não temer as trevas da noite.
Se há estrelas nos céus, refleti-las.
E se os céus se pejam de nuvens,
Como o rio as nuvens são água,
Refleti-las também sem mágoa
Nas profundidades tranquilas.

 Manuel Bandeira, Belo, 1948

For the Mantis Shrimp Kung Fu seems like Tai chi

These are a few of my favourite things

I've been toying recently with the idea of starting a set of new projects: gaming related blogs, video content, just a some political articles about everything I have an opinion on - or even free translation on the web of relevant texts. Every time these projects fall short - either because I don't have enough time to dedicate to them, or because... With everything else I have already going on, it feels like a strange waste of time to start something again, instead of using what I have. I have this blog, for instance - but when was the last time I wrote down longer texts here? Then again, another relevant excuse: this blog is deeply personal, a dairy of thoughts and nice things for my personal enjoyment. I post whatever I want, whenever I feel like, in whatever language. I don't want that to change. Posting here, however, won't solve my issue either, because I don't advertise to the target readers.

Ah, the dilemma...

Here for posterity, for when I want to revive some of these projects again!

The library as an island

“This sleight of hand is achieved, every time a reader locks onto the Web, by stressing velocity over reflection and brevity over complexity, preferring snippets of news and bytes of facts over lengthy discussions and elaborate dossiers, and by diluting informed opinion with reams of inane babble, ineffectual advice, inaccurate facts and trivial information, made attractive with brand names and manipulated statistics. 

But the Web is an instrument. It is not to blame for our superficial concern with the world in which we live. Its virtue is in the brevity and multiplicity of its information; it cannot also provide us with concentration and depth. The electronic media can assist us (do in fact assist us) in a myriad of practical ways, but not in all, and can’t be held responsible for that which they are not meant to do. (...) 

Neither will the Web lend us bed and board in our passage through this world, because it’s neither a resting place nor a home, neither Circe’s cave nor Ithaca. We alone, and not our technologies, are responsible for our losses, and we alone are to blame when we deliberately choose oblivion over recollection. We are, however, adroit at making excuses and dreaming up reasons for our poor choices. (...) 

It is likely that libraries will carry on and survive, as long as we persist in lending words to the world that surrounds us, and storing them for future readers. So much has been named, so much will continue to be named, that in spite of our foolishness we will not give up this small miracle that allows us the ghost of an understanding. Books may not change our suffering, books may not protect us from evil, books may not tell us what is good or what is beautiful, and they will certainly not shield us from the common fate of the grave. But books grant us myriad possibilities: the possibility of change, the possibility of illumination.” 

Alberto Manguel, The Library at Night

Place your head on my beating heart

Darlin' I will be lovin' you

Till we're seventy

Baby my heart could still fall as hard

At twenty three

I'm thinkin' bout how

People fall in love in mysterious ways

Maybe just the touch of a hand

Me, I fall in love with you every single day

I just wanna tell you I am

A rapariga no semáforo

Tens a mesma idade que eu tinha
quando comecei a sonhar com encontrar-te.
Então não sabia, tal como tu
não aprendeste ainda, que um dia
o amor seria esta arma carregada
de solidão e de melancolia
que agora aponta para ti desde os meus olhos.
És a rapariga que procurei
tanto tempo quando ainda não existias.
E eu sou aquele homem para o qual
quererás um dia dirigir os teus passos.
Mas então estarei tão longe de ti
como agora tu de mim neste semáforo.

Misteriosamente feliz, Joan Margarit