fumo (ainda)

OQO 

pygmalion (and hughes)

(...)

So he had made a woman

Lovelier than any living woman.

And when he gazed at her

As if coming awake he fell in love.

His own art amazed him, she was so real.

She might have moved, he thought,

Only her modesty

Her sole garment – invisible,

Woven from the fabric of his dream –

Held her as if slightly ashamed

Of stepping into life.

Then his love

For this woman so palpably a woman

Became his life.

Incessantly now

He caressed her,

Searching for the warmth of living flesh,

His finger-tip whorls filtering out

Every feel of mere ivory.

He kissed her, closing his eyes

To divine an answering kiss of life

In her perfect lips.

And he would not believe

They were after all only ivory.

He spoke to her, he stroked her

Lightly to feel her living aura

Soft as down over her whiteness.

His fingers gripped her hard

To feel flesh yield under the pressure

That half wanted to bruise her

Into a proof of life, and half did not

Want to hurt or mar or least of all

Find her the solid ivory he had made her.

He flattered her.

He brought her love-gifts, knick-knacks,

Speckled shells, gem pebbles,

Little rainbow birds in pretty cages,

Flowers, pendants, drops of amber.

He dressed her

In the fashion of the moment,

Set costly rings on her cold fingers,

Hung pearls in her ears, coiled ropes of pearl

To drape her ivory breasts.

Did any of all this add to her beauty?

Gazing at her adorned, his head ached.

But then he stripped everything off her

And his brain swam, his eyes

Dazzled to contemplate

The greater beauty of her naked beauty.

(...)

in tales from ovid by Ted Hughes 

quanto tempo dura uma relação?

Catarina Sobral e Joana Estrela na exposição "3 meses e 2 dias", um encontro na galeria do Porto, Dama Aflita ( que muito gostávamos, como bem diz João Fazenda, que desaguasse em mais um livro da Catarina ). 
img. Catarina Sobral

visual love

There are two kinds of visual memory: one when you skillfully recreate an image in the laboratory of your mind, with your eyes open (and then I see Annabel in such general terms as: "honey-colored kins," 'thin arms," "brown bobbed hair," "long lashes," "big bright mouth"

and the other when you instantly evoke, with shut eyes on the dark innerside of your eyelids, the objective, absolutely optical replica of a beloved face, a little ghost in natural colors (and this is how I see Lolita).”
 

Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita

4ª feira - 21h

Storytelling is a powerful human drive. We spend our existence living the story of our lives, reshaping and telling it to ourselves and others. We read and write stories to create and remember. We paint and film them, bringing to life the most beautiful and singular details of the human experience. Sometimes, we even cover our bodies with them. But what are stories for? Why do we tell them? Why is storytelling such an integral part of our brains? 

The event will start with presentations by all three speakers above, and will be followed by a set of activities outside the auditorium, including book-crossing, storytelling sessions and interventions by projects involved in storytelling in the field.

Entrance is free and subject to availability.
Live streaming will be available during the event.

via

travessia

"A viagem não começa quando se percorrem distâncias, mas quando se atravessam as nossas fronteiras interiores. A viagem acontece quando acordamos fora do corpo, longe do último lugar onde podemos ter casa."

Mia Couto in O Outro Pé da Sereia

img. Adolfo Serra 

mother's day

( for both of us ♥ )

flying paper

all here.