roda o vento e afasta-se,

cai redondo sobre a mão.

não suporto a dor,

abjecta.

escuro o tempo,

finge no chão

o amor, louro.

apAgado.

que flecha voa para sempre?... a que acerta no alvo.

in Contos Completos, V. Nabokov

One of my friends is dead now. He walked off

a cliff, with a note in his pocket that the sea

made unreadable. Turns out i still cry when 

i think of him. I wonder what he wrote.

penso que já tinha escrito outrora.

mas voltou-me à memoria:

coisas bOas acontecem a quem sabe esperar.

iconica esta imagem. descobri agora o autor,
o grande e incomparável
will oldham.

há, muito provavelmente,
mil e uma desculpas
para partir.

esta é uma delas, e
estará bem no principio do meu
primeiro filme.


the great escape, de patrick watson

"Bad day, looking for a way
Oh, looking for the great escape
Gets in his car and drives away
Far from all the things that we are
Puts on a smile and breaths it in and breaths it out
He says bye-bye, bye to all of the noise
Oh he says bye-bye bye to all of the noise

Hey child, things are looking down,
That’s OK you don’t need to win anyways
Don’t be afraid just eat up all the gray
and it will fade away
Don’t let yourself fall down

Bad day, looking for the great escape
He says bad day, looking for the great escape
On a bad day, looking for the great escape
Great escape"