13.1.17
16.11.16
11.11.16
"I told you when I came I was a stranger.
But now another stranger seems
To want you to ignore his dreams
As though they were the burden of some other
O you've seen that man before
His golden arm dispatching cards
But now it's rusted from the elbows to the finger
And he wants to trade the game he plays for shelter
Yes he wants to trade the game he knows for shelter."
But now another stranger seems
To want you to ignore his dreams
As though they were the burden of some other
O you've seen that man before
His golden arm dispatching cards
But now it's rusted from the elbows to the finger
And he wants to trade the game he plays for shelter
Yes he wants to trade the game he knows for shelter."
7.9.16
2.8.16
25.7.16
"It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for – and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing. It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool – for love – for your dreams – for the adventure of being alive."
12.5.16
21.3.16
"A fotografia é a única linguagem entendida em toda parte do mundo e que, ao interligar todas as nações e culturas, une a familia humana. Independente da influência política - onde as pessoas foram livres-, ela reflete fielmente a vida e os fatos, permite-nos compartilhar as esperanças e os desespero dos outros outros e esclarece as condições política e sociais. Tornamo-nos testemunhas oculares da humanidade e da desumanidade da espécie humana (...)"
2.2.16
"We all have our little solipsistic delusions, ghastly intuitions of utter singularity: that we are the only one in the house who ever fills the ice-cube tray, who unloads the clean dishwasher, who occasionally pees in the shower, whose eyelid twitches on first dates; that only we take casualness terribly seriously; that only we fashion supplication into courtesy; that only we hear the whiny pathos in a dog’s yawn, the timeless sigh in the opening of the hermetically-sealed jar, the splattered laugh in the frying egg, the minor-D lament in the vacuum’s scream; that only we feel the panic at sunset the rookie kindergartner feels at his mother’s retreat. That only we love the only-we. That only we need the only-we. Solipsism binds us together, J.D. knows. That we feel lonely in a crowd; stop not to dwell on what’s brought the crowd into being. That we are, always, faces in a crowd."
13.1.16
30.12.15
5.11.15
8.9.15
"I keep looking for a place to fit
Where I can speak my mind
I've been trying hard to find the people
That I won't leave behind
They say I got brains
But they ain't doing me no good
I wish they could
Each time things start to happen again
I think I got something good goin' for myself
But what goes wrong
Sometimes I feel very sad
(Can't find nothin' I can put my heart and soul into)
I guess I just wasn't made for these times"
Where I can speak my mind
I've been trying hard to find the people
That I won't leave behind
They say I got brains
But they ain't doing me no good
I wish they could
Each time things start to happen again
I think I got something good goin' for myself
But what goes wrong
Sometimes I feel very sad
(Can't find nothin' I can put my heart and soul into)
I guess I just wasn't made for these times"
28.8.15
"The dialectic case of the 'things we do', the 'things we have done' and the 'things we are going to do' has been haunting present and earlier generations. For ages people have been confronted with the soul-searching question how should I interpret the past and how do I move forward. Linguistic sayings, which were inherited from century to century, gave us a good deal of remarkable advice and moral guidance in this field : " Do what is right and let come what come may ", " Do well and fear not ", " Do well and dread no shame "."
"It may be somewhat paradoxical to refer to shame as a 'feeling,' for while shame is initially painful, constant shaming leads to a deadening of feeling. Shame, like cold, is, in essence, the absence of warmth. And when it reaches overwhelming intensity, shame is experienced, like cold, as a feeling of numbness and deadness. [In Dante's Inferno] the lowest circle of hell was a region not of flames, but of ice---absolute coldness."
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