Sem título #348

Loveable...

Primavera #206

Trepadeira

Espantos #696

Heron walking by the lake

looking like a water color painting

Parece que estou a ouvir #497

As Abelhas

Marisa Monte

A abelha mestra
E as abelhinhas
Estão todas prontinhas
P'ra ir para festa

Num zune que zune
Lá vão p'ro jardim
Brincar com a cravinea
Valsar com o jasmim
Da rosa p'ro cravo
Do cravo p'ra rosa
Da rosa p'ro favo
E de volta p'ra a rosa

Venham ver como dão mel
As abelhas do céu
Venham ver como dão mel
As abelhas do céu
Venham ver como dão mel
As abelhas do céu
Venham ver como dão mel
As abelhas do céu

A abelha rainha
Está sempre cansada
Engorda a pancinha
E não faz mais nada

Num zune que zune
Lá vão p'ro jardim
Brincar com a cravinea
Valsar com o jasmim
Da rosa p'ro cravo
Do cravo p'ra rosa
Da rosa p'ro favo
E de volta p'ra a rosa

Venham ver como dão mel
As abelhas do céu
Venham ver como dão mel
As abelhas do céu
Venham ver como dão mel
As abelhas do céu
Venham ver como dão mel
As abelhas do céu

Da rosa p'ro cravo
Do cravo p'ra rosa
Da rosa p'ro favo
E de volta p'ra a rosa

Venham ver como dão mel
As abelhas do céu
Venham ver como dão mel
As abelhas do céu
Venham ver como dão mel
As abelhas do céu
Venham ver como dão mel
As abelhas do céu

Pormenores #186

Campainhas rosas

cheias de chuva e com pintinhas por dentro!

Coisas que não mudam #707

Caminhando para a escola com afinco!

Sem título #347

Some decisions don't really matter!

Coisas que não mudam #706

One relaxed cat

Coisas que não mudam #705

Dia de Santa Rita!

Palavras lidas #625

French Chocolates
by Ellen Bass

If you have your health, you have everything
is something that's said to cheer you up
when you come home early and find your lover
arched over a stranger in a scarlet thong.

Or it could be you lose your job at Happy Nails
because you can't stop smudging the stars
on those ten teeny American flags.

I don't begrudge you your extravagant vitality.
May it blossom like a cherry tree. May the petals
of your cardiovascular excellence
and the accordion polka of your lungs
sweeten the mornings of your loneliness.

But for the ill, for you with nerves that fire
like a rusted-out burner on an old barbecue,
with bones brittle as spun sugar,
with a migraine hammering like a blacksmith

in the flaming forge of your skull,
may you be spared from friends who say,
God doesn't give you more than you can handle
and ask what gifts being sick has brought you.

May they just keep their mouths shut
and give you French chocolates and daffodils
and maybe a small, original Matisse,
say, Open Window, Collioure, so you can look out
at the boats floating on the dappled pink water.

Ditto #620

A big step for me, and a small step for mankind.

--Joseph Brodsky

Primavera #205

Lindas papoilas gigantes

e a diferença que faz um dia de sol

Sem título #436

The power of cartoon comics

Parece que estou a ouvir #496

1978!

Still the same
Bob Seger

You always won every time you placed a bet
You're still damn good, no one's gotten to you yet
Every time they were sure they had you caught
You were quicker than they thought
You'd just turn your back and walk

You always said the cards would never do you wrong
The trick, you said, was never play the game too long
A gambler's share, the only risk that you would take
The only loss you could forsake
The only bluff you couldn't fake

And you're still the same
I caught up with you yesterday (still the same, still the same)
Moving game to game
No one standing in your way

Turning on the charm
Long enough to get you by (still the same, still the same)
You're still the same
You still aim high

Still the same, still the same
Still the same, still the same

There you stood, everybody watched you play
I just turned and walked away
I had nothing left to say

'Cause you're still the same (still the same)
(Baby, baby, you're still the same)
You're still the same (still the same)
(Baby, baby, you're still the same)
Moving game to game (still the same)
(Baby, baby, you're still the same)

Some things never change (still the same)
(Baby, baby, you're still the same)
Oh, you're still the same (still the same)
(Baby, baby, you're still the same)
Still the same (still the same)
(Baby, baby, you're still the same)

Coisas bonitas #195

E outra de patinhos, agora na Canal Basin!

Coisas bonitas #194

Finalmente uma familia de gansos no campus...

... já tardava!

Espantos #695

Garça

um exemplo de elasticidade

Coisas que não mudam #704

Cat: a loaf, a yawn, and a wash

Sem título #435

No need...

Palavras lidas #624

The Pleasures of Hating
by Laure-Anne Bosselaar

I hate Mozart. Hate him with that healthy
pleasure one feels when exasperation has

crescendoed, when lungs, heart, throat,
and voice explode at once: I hate that! —

there’s bliss in this, rapture. My shrink
tried to disabuse me, convinced I use Amadeus

as a prop: Think further; your father perhaps?
I won’t go back, think of the shrink

with a powdered wig, pinched lips, mole:
a transference, he’d say, a relapse: so be it.

I hate broccoli, chain saws, patchouli, bra-
clasps that draw dents in your back, roadblocks,

men in black kneesocks, sandals and shorts —
I love hating that. Loathe stickers on tomatoes,

jerky, deconstruction, nazis, doilies. I delight
in detesting. And love loving so much after that.