segunda-feira, 28 de novembro de 2011

The contrast is between the grey truth and the locked beautiful green lies.

Fim de tarde.
O vento rebola as folhas nuas, 
Pássaros conversam entre si.
Nuvens densas escondem o azul pacífico do profundo.
Lembranças passeiam pelo verde.
Lembranças de uma infância com aparência livre,
Trancada com portões daquele condomínio.
Pingos caem com precisão.
O barulho orquestral da chuva me acalma,
Telha se molha lentamente, formando desenho simétrico.
Cheiro molhado de chuva torta.
Árvores embriagadas dançam.
O homem tenta imitá-las,
Porém sua beleza é apenas contagiante.

Fatoumata Diawara

Fatoumata Diawara (born 1982) is a Malian musician currently living in France. Born in the Ivory Coast to Malian parents, Diawara moved to France to pursue acting, appearing in Cheikh Oumar Cissoko's 1999 feature film La Genèse, Dani Kouyaté's popular 2001 filmSia, le rêve du python, in the internationally renowned street theatre troupe Royal Deluxe, and played a leading role in the musical Kirikou et Karaba.
She later took up the guitar and began composing her own material, writing songs that blend Wassalou traditions of Southern Mali with international influences. Noted for her distinct “sensuous voice,” she has performed and recorded with Oumou Sangaré, AfroCubism, Dee Dee Bridgewater (on Red Earth: A Malian Journey),and the Orchestre Poly-Rythmo de Cotonou. Her new EP was released May 9, 2011 and her debut album Fatou with World Circuit Records was released in September 2011.

domingo, 27 de novembro de 2011


Fill your boring sunday with some british comedy and shut down your brain for a couple of hours.
Peter Sellers and John Cleese are the right ones to make you burst in laughter.
Peter Sellers

--> The Pink Panter
KNOWN FOR - Ability to speak in different accents (French, Indian, American, German, as well as British regional accents)
The director Peter Hall has said: "Peter had the ability to identify completely with another person, and think his way physically, mentally and emotionally into their skin. Where does that come from? I have no idea. Is it a curse? Often. I think it's not enough, though, in this business to have talent. You have to have talent to handle the talent. And that I think Peter did not have."
John Cleese

-->Fawlty Towers

KNOWN FOR - Mustache / Being very tall / Playing arrogant characters who mistreat those around them


Not from my heart do I select my words,
But from my judgemental calculations.
As glass that cuts the flesh and leaves the wound,
Iced is my blood that flows not to my bosom,
But refuse that one that can leave me ruined.
The more I'm free the more I'm lonely still,
Still counting empty drops of nothingness.
I'm maybe crashed, from all that broke me once
And left my naked heroes solely.
But virtuous as I was, never will again.
So go and hunt for love at other sight,
For I that word do not recall as mine.
      I'll keep my feelings all deep down
      So anymore I'll let you drown.

sábado, 26 de novembro de 2011

Can We Talk About This? DV8

Lloyd Newson’s latest work, Can We Talk About This? deals with freedom of speech, censorship and Islam. The production will premiere in August 2011 at Sydney Opera House, followed by an international tour. For dates and ticket information click here >
From the 1989 book burnings of Salman Rushdie’s The Satanic Verses, to the murder of filmmaker Theo Van Gogh and the controversy of the ‘Muhammad cartoons’ in 2005, DV8’s production will examine how these events have reflected and influenced multicultural policies, press freedom and artistic censorship.
In the follow up to the critically acclaimed To Be Straight With You, this documentary-style dance-theatre production will use real-life interviews and archive footage. Contributors include a number of high profile writers, campaigners and politicians.

"The liberal fear of giving offence has simply
made it easier to take offence."
Kenan Malik, author of From Fatwa to Jihad
"It is very, very easy not to be offended by a book.
You just have to shut it."
Salman Rushdie

Mechas Ardidas

Sinto teu gosto no cheiro do ar
Sinto teu cheiro no gosto do mar
Fala comigo sereia perdida
Lambe minhas ondas com mechas ardidas
Te levo onde for
Te trago comigo
Me pega no ardor
Enfeita o domingo

She's Dying to Survive

She stands there, on the sidewalk. The floor is too cold to be sat at, so she leans on the sides of her feet, which she doesn't feel anymore. 

The more she holds her baby, the more se feels its pain. The small undeveloped creature stopped crying days ago. He got used to the constant physical hurting, she thought.

All she wanted was to hear his crying again, any alive noise; but the heart beat was garbled and the slow breathing was almost gone.

Take a Picture

Take a picture
Of the feeling.
Unstoppable feminine talking on the background,
Swimming trees on the hot air,
Beautifully screaming birds,
Peace mixed with nostalgic missing of my frenetic times.
That locked freedom used to fill my lungs as a drug,
Taking my fears away and gently stroking my blond hair.
I miss it.

Um pouco de tudo junto, virou muito

De tudo fica um pouco.
Daquele ficou muito.
As rosas murcharam
E o tempo se foi,
Mas um pouco daquele cheiro ficou.
Um pouco das palavras desenhadas.
Um pouco dos sentimentos na pele.
Um pouco de tudo junto, virou muito.
Nos construimos.


There is a woman in Somalia
Scraping for pearls on the roadside
There's a force stronger than nature
Keeps her will alive

This is how she's dying
She's dying to survive
Don't know what she's made of
I would like to be that brave

She cries to the heaven above
There is a stone in my heart
She lives a life she didn't choose
And it hurts like brand-new shoes

Hurts like brand-new shoes

There is a woman in Somalia
The sun gives her no mercy
The same sky we lay under
Burns her to the bone

Long as afternoon shadows
It's gonna take her to get home
Each grain carefully wrapped up
Pearls for her little girl


She cries to the heaven above
There is a stone in my heart
She lives in a world she didn't choose
And it hurts like brand-new shoes
Hurts like brand-new shoes


Espanto, sono não vem.
O lustre preto tem aspecto sombrio.
Janela semi-aberta,
Luzes passeiam pelo quarto, dançantes.
Temperatura está boa,
Mas se penso em tempestade tenho frio.
Frio solitário.
Barulho constante de cidade.
Fora vejo luzes, muita vida, muita morte.
Como será a morte?
Coração acelera.
Duvidas, muitas.
Cama larga trás mais solidão.
Aula. Tenho que dormir, mas somente deslizo sobre o sonho.


A felicidade é pouca para quem merece bondade monstra,
E amor é palavra pequena para tamanha imensidão.

Espalha sua sabedoria pelo mundo, que nesse a hipocrisia é muita.
Precisamos colher das suas terras plantadas de paixão, grãos de riso melódico e rosa cheirosa.