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."
Assinar:
Postagens (Atom)