Viagem

Iremos juntos separados,

as palavras mordidas uma a uma,

taciturnas, cintilantes

- ó meu amor, constelação de bruma,

ombro dos meus braços hesitantes.

Esquecidos, lembrados, repetidos

na boca dos amantes que se beijam

no alto dos navios;

desfeitos ambos, ambos inteiros,

no rasto dos peixes luminosos,

afogados na voz dos marinheiros.

Eugénio de Andrade

Hot rabi - Love on the brain

 

"Baby, you got me like oh"

Modern families

 

Eres tú

Yumi and the Nightmare Painter

Art by Aliya Chen

"Trauma doesn’t decrease with company, but it does grow easier to work through when you know someone else understands." 

Brandon Sanderson

 "Bien sûr, il y aura des heures intranquilles. Incompréhensions, colères, rancoeurs: des moments d'absence, à soi autant qu'à l'Autre, et qui installent un vide blessant.

Pierres, bosses et ronces, parfois, compliquent la marche. Mais dans le fond, nous sommes bien d'accord: les cahots n'empêchent pas le chemin. 

Où que je sois avec toi, je ne me perds pas."

Florence Saint-Roch

Out of life's school of war—what doesn't kill me, makes me stronger. 

Friedrich Nietzsche

Eu não me importo

    

"E agora vais dizer a toda gente que a culpa é minha

E que é em mim que mora a razão do teu desgosto
Só eu sei o tanto que eu já chorei sozinha
Se queres dar o meu nome a tua raiva, ei"

 "There isn't any secret formula or method. You learn to love by loving - by paying attention and doing what one thereby discovers has to be done."

Aldous Huxley, Time Must Have a Stop

Feeling like

 These days.

Yori yori

"Once one accepts evil – and rejection in love is a significant cause for doing so – cruelty follows quickly."

Orhan Pamuk, My Name is Red

Alan Rickman's "My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun"

 Sonnet 130

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;

Coral is far more red than her lips' red;

If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;

If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.

I have seen roses damasked, red and white,

But no such roses see I in her cheeks;

And in some perfumes is there more delight

Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.

I love to hear her speak, yet well I know

That music hath a far more pleasing sound;

I grant I never saw a goddess go;

My mistress when she walks treads on the ground.

And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare

As any she belied with false compare.

Wedding of reality with the demon of what is impossible

 "World history compels us to recognize Man's continuous, inexhaustible capacity to invent unrealizable projects. In the effort to realize them, he achieves many things, he creates innumerable realities that so-called Nature is incapable of producing for itself. The only thing that Man does not achieve is, precisely, what he he proposes to - let it be said to his credit. This wedding of reality with the demon of what is impossible supplies the universe with the only growth that it is capable of. For that reason, it is very important to emphasize that everything - that is, everything, worthwhile, everything truly human - is difficult, very difficult; so much so, that it is impossible."

José Ortega y Gasset, in The Misery and the Splendor of Translation

Downtown

 

"I loved Mor, but I never appreciated her enough. I never really understood how wonderful it was to always have someone to talk to who would know what you were talking about, and someone to play with who understood the kind of things I wanted to play."

Jo Walton, in Among others

A pensar em ti, C.

Feita de maresia

Mar, metade da minha alma é feita de maresia

Pois é pela mesma inquietação e nostalgia,

Que há no vasto clamor da maré cheia,

Que nunca nenhum bem me satisfez.

E é porque as tuas ondas desfeitas pela areia

Mais fortes se levantam outra vez,

Que após cada queda caminho para a vida,

Por uma nova ilusão entontecida.

E se vou dizendo aos astros o meu mal

É porque também tu revoltado e teatral

Fazes soar a tua dor pelas alturas.

E se antes de tudo odeio e fujo

O que é impuro, profano e sujo,

É só porque as tuas ondas são puras.

Sophia de Mello Breyner Andresen

Feel it still

E yo lo creo

 Un año después, eso de vivir en los Países Bajos. Me preguntan como me siento, que lo debo escribir. Pero el problema es que… No vivo aquí hacia un año. Vivo aquí hacía tres, creo. Ni lo sé, que de mala soy con datas. Pero eso sí sé qué aún no me siento en casa. Todo suele ser complicado, a veces, complicado de llorar en un novelo todo el día echada sobre el sofá. No es que no comprenda de donde viene eso, que lo comprendo, que tiene que ver con mi separación de T., y todo que ha pasado desde entonces, más Covid, esa puta mierda que fue como un stop en todas nos vidas. Nada hace mucho sentido, hoy. Con la excepción, talvez, de ello. Sin excepción. Ello me hace sentir que todo lo ha valido a peña, incluso esa dolor y esa duda, esas culpas que cargué por demasiado tiempo. Y que me puedo poner rara, que puedo escribir en Español mesmo se quiera, que no es ni mi lengua nativa ni nada, pero yo puedo hacer todo lo que me die las ganas, cuando me die las ganas, porque está bien. Que yo viva feliz, que me lo merezco, y que no pasa nada. No pasa nada, me dice ello, e yo lo creo.

I miss you

"To see you when I wake up

Is a gift I didn't think could be real

To know that you feel the same as I do

Is a three-fold utopian dream Y

ou do something to me that I can't explain"