Bola no mato

Passeio na Foz

OneSelf

as duas únicas fotos decentes que encontrei.

Aparências duvidosas

Of the terrible doubt of appearances,
Of the uncertainty after all, that we may be deluded,
That may-be reliance and hope are but speculations after all,
That may-be identity beyond the grave is a beautiful fable only,
May-be the things I perceive, the animals, plants, men, hills,
shining and flowing waters,
The skies of day and night, colors, densities, forms, may-be these
are (as doubtless they are) only apparitions, and the real
something has yet to be known,
(How often they dart out of themselves as if to confound me and mock me!
How often I think neither I know, nor any man knows, aught of them,)
May-be seeming to me what they are (as doubtless they indeed but seem)
as from my present point of view, and might prove (as of course theywould) nought of what they appear, or nought anyhow, from entirelychanged points of view;
To me these and the like of these are curiously answer'd by mylovers, my dear friends,
When he whom I love travels with me or sits a long while holding meby the hand,
When the subtle air, the impalpable, the sense that words and reasonhold not, surround us and pervade us,
Then I am charged with untold and untellable wisdom, I am silent, I require nothing further,
I cannot answer the question of appearances or that of identity
beyond the grave,But I walk or sit indifferent, I am satisfied,
He ahold of my hand has completely satisfied me.

Walt Whitman

Surfing in the Light

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light

Dylan Thomas

What the thunder said

Who is the third who walks always beside you?

When I count, there are only you and I together

But when I look ahead up the white road

There is always another one walking beside you

Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle, hooded

I do not know whether a man or a woman

—But who is that on the other side of you?

Waste Land - T.S. Eliot

Um Sonho Mau

...

I wake up, it's a bad dream
No one on my side
I was fighting
But I just feel too tired
To be fighting
Guess I'm not the fighting kind
Wouldn't mind it
If you were by my side
But you're long gone
you're long gone now

Where do we go?
I don't even know
My strange old face
And I'm thinking about those days
And I'm thinking about those days

Keane

Caminho

Ribeiro

Rio

Há que ir subindo

Olhares

Holofernes

There never was a captain served a king

Who brought so many countries in subjection

Or one more famous then for everything

Touching the fields of war and insurrection,

Or more presumptuous by predilection

Than Holofernes. Fortunes fair

Kissed him with such a lecherous affection

He lost his head before he was aware.

Canterbury Tales

Oh Bolas!!

A experiência é coisa util mas demora muito tempo a adquirir, quando já a temos serve de pouco.

Acordar

Ainda a decidir se mudo o mundo ou só desfruto dele...

Contra a Luz

Há um ritmo nestas coisas
Há um ritmo nelas
Há um ritmo

Só um.

Porta de Saída

- Então voçê atira-me com o homem a seis metros!?
- Na! - Responde modestamente o outro - Nem quatro!

Vamos descer por aqui

Duas horas depois de sairem da cidade não aguentou mais.
- Estamos outra vez tesos!
- Não é bem assim - Respondeu o amigo tirando um dolár do bolso - Ainda temos isto!