literary & visual reflections * humanidades
Mas o que realmente me impediu de acionar a câmera, e me fez colocá-la de volta no estojo, perdendo o que poderia ter sido a foto perfeita, uma cápsula do tempo, foi uma sensação semelhante à que ocorre pouco antes de se colher uma flor, quando a dúvida interfere na escolha de se possuir a beleza destruindo-a.
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Você não pode ir para a rua, mas pode trazer a rua para você! O meu encontro com o grande artista da Lapa: Cazé | You cannot go the streets right now, but you can bring the street to you! My interview with Cazé, renowned urban artist of Rio de Janeiro
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The past can be truly seductive, despite all the evidence to the contrary and the fact that no one has ever returned from it. That is why I have always been suspicious of nostalgia: it always sprouts in the present, no matter when it was sown from the seeds of what people prefer to remember, and never from the dead seeds of what they prefer to forget.
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If I look irritated, it is because I was. It is in these moments of disappointment, however, when we learn the most.
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“Do you know why you do not like conceptual art? It is because you know how to solve problems with your hands. You have the means to create plastically, visually. If you only had concepts, you would write.”
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It is the story of the picture I chose not to take and it was selected by JAGGERY, the literary journal of South Asia. The Untaken Frame
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I don’t have a television might seem like the vainglorious boast of a pedantic bookworm. I confess it was twenty years ago. Today, however, this detail about the choices I’ve made does not say very much, considering all the time I spend on the internet. Apparently, television has gotten better since I was a kid watching […]
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Neither Tolstoy’s War and Peace nor James Joyce’s Ulysses would be my quarantine book. I immediately remembered the story of how a young boy found love in the concentration camp of Terezín.
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Following Amazonian wisdom that all the medicine one needs in life will already be there, growing at one’s feet. I decided not only to let the weed growing on my windowsill live, I gave it its own pot.
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“Eu me lembro do helicóptero com drogas, Ricky, mas não de um avião. Deixa de exagerar, pô!” disse o meu amigo, aquele carioca grande, com vozeirão, que não sabe conversar, só sabe gritar, ao chegarmos à mesa do botequim que frequentávamos numa época em que tínhamos mais cabelo, bebíamos muito mais e em que ainda não havíamos nos separado para tomar caminhos — e opiniões—muito diferentes.
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At home and preparing my meals every single day, I cannot help but to reflect upon the fact that quarantine is a privilege.
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Minha predileta sempre será a BANDA DA CONCEIÇÃO | My favorite will always be Banda da Conceição
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Does everything really happen for the best? I snarl, as Voltaire most probably did, challenging Leibniz with comedy and wisdom amid a world of atrocities.
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