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"

há momentos
em que as lágrimas
representam a melhor resposta
a tudo.

E ver correr a linha do tempo sobre nós,
segredar-nos a nossa (in)existência,
deixar que ela própria nos detenha
até que a luz reapareça.

When I was younger, younger than before
I never saw the truth hanging from the door
And now Im older see it face to face
And now Im older gotta get up clean the place.

And I was green, greener than the hill
Where the flowers grew and the sun shone still
Now Im darker than the deepest sea
Just hand me down, give me a place to be.

And I was strong, strong in the sun
I thought Id see when day is done
Now Im weaker than the palest blue
Oh, so weak in this need for you.

nick drake - place to be

estava no vidro azul do meu amigo ricardo.
dedicada a todos os lobos,
não pude deixar de transcrevê-la.
é de bonnie prince billy.

She loves a soul
That I've never been,
A dog among dogs,
A man among men.

And every day
When I come home to her,
She holds a phantom.
She kisses and she hugs him,
And I am not
Averse to how she loves him.

Why must I live and walk,
Unloved as what i am?
Why can't I be loved as what I am:
A wolf among wolves and not as a man
Among men?

She craves a home
That she can go in
A sheltered cave,
That I have never seen,
Not in my life,
And not even in my dreams.

Why can't I be loved as what I am:
A wolf among wolves and not as a man
Among men?

TEM de haver um buraco
para os gritos.

beckett.