Strange ways

"meine Hände liegen wie Buchstaben ohne Zunge auf meine Knien..."



Emine Sevgi Özdamar, Mutterzunge

















foto extraída: http://olhares.aeiou.pt/am_train_foto702354.html

schaukelstuhl

Esperei por obrigação. Não fui eu que quis. São poucas as coisas que acontecem na minha vida porque eu quero que aconteçam. A maioria das coisas vão acontecendo e eu vou reagindo a elas, porque...fora a reacção não me resta outra alternativa.
Deixo-me ficar aqui. Sentada. E vejo as coisas passar. Todos pensam que a minha vida gira como uma roda viva, mas tudo depende da perspectiva com que se olha para ela: há quem veja um mundo que gira á minha volta, há quem veja um mundo á volta do qual eu giro á procura do local que me pertence...




Ainda não encontrei....

the old house

Here I am again.
Passed by to see if there is something new. I guess not.
I guess you haven't been here for a while either. From my point of view everything looks exactly the way I left it when I decided to walk pass that door. You were already gone for a while then. I guess you never came back to check our old house.

I passed by by chance. I always do that when I move from one city to another. It has turned into a kind of tradition that I am afraid of letting go. I'm not brave enough to give me the chance to forget how it looks like... the sun always shines on its back and there's quiet in it, don't you think? Despite the sad stories its walls whisper in my ears I always feel a kind of safe in here. Deep inside I know that anything else could hurt me more than this old house does. Somehow conforting....

I heard you're doing fine. I wish I could be happy to hear that. I pretend I am, it might help me to believe in my own lies. I admire the calm with which you closed the door, you closed it as softly as you would lay your head to sleep next to mine. I guess I admire that.
I heard you're moving in. I admire that as well: that easiness of transferring dreams from one point to the other. I guess I could try to admire that as well... my dreams lay here on the green fresh grass in front of the porch of our old house. That might the reason why I come here so often to visit them, to touch them, to feel them. Once I wanted to take them with me to a new town but they are stuck to the ground so I come here to see them. I don't want them to feel left behind... They still belong to me in the same way this house belongs to me as well.
I heard you're doing fine... so I don't believe you care much about your own part of the house. Don't worry I can watch for it when I come here for my dreams.





I might be leaving now. Left you a note on the front door in case you do come back... I don't wish to you the same feeling of loneliness I get every time I am caught by the sun that shines on the back of our own old house.


I don't wish it to you.
I don't wish it to anybody.



foto extraída de: http://www.flickr.com/photos/imable/3149748407/

Don't shout....

"Standing there alone on the roof he always felt he had to shout out - but he did not know what it was he wanted to say. It seemed like if he would put this thing into words he would no longer be a boy with big rough bare feet and hands that hung down clumsy from the outgrown sleeves of his lumberjack. He would be a great man, a kind of god, and what he called out would make things that bothered him and all other people plain and simple."


Carson McCullers, Untitled piece





foto: http://www.flickr.com/photos/16536699@N07/3204082698/

Untitled

Foi o silêncio que ficou.

Já perdi a conta das horas que passaram desde que o eco da porta que bateste atrás de ti terminou de zumbir na minha cabeça.

Ainda não consegui sair do sítio onde me deixaste... sentada neste canto que já se tornou tão familiar á minha presença. Vou falando com as pessoas que passam por aqui. Falamos do tempo, das aulas, dos últimos concertos. Falo. Mas não me mexo.

Os cacos das porcelanas que partiste continuam espalhados pelo chão daquele espaço que um dia partilhamos e chamamos nosso. Observo e tento reconhecer em cada detalhe um ponto da nossa história. Mas de certo modo tudo o que me involve agora é-me extremamente desconhecido.




Gostava de puder começar a juntar o lixo que deixaste mas faltam-me as forças para levantar. Mas acho que, no fundo... tenho medo que não me encontres aqui onde me deixaste quando me vieres procurar.

Your world is mine

One day I'll whisper in your ear the truth that I hide from you inside my heart.




I know your world better than you will ever know it. The stars, the clouds.... i feel them beneath my feet.





Who said you needed wings to fly?






I'm afraid you will never understand me.....

Pleasure incomplete...................

Não me dês tudo agora. Ou melhor, não me dês tudo nunca. Gosto do travo a incompleto que deixas ficar na minha boca entre este beijo e a promessa do próximo....




Não se trata de ter medo do fim... conheço-o bem e escolhi voltar atrás. Fico por aqui. Neste sítio que é só meu onde escondo todos os pedaços da história do meu caminho...


Ponto final? Não, não me obrigues a escrevê-lo....









listening to Weebles Fall, Slovo.... obrigada Zita!

fast food love

Game over.
The clock was ticking.
I heard its last sound. It ticked softly on my heart. You could have sung a lullaby, I would pretend I was asleep.

Didn't mean you to realize I wasn't.


Tick. Off.

auto-retrato

Fossem minhas as horas, os dias e as noites. Fossem minhas as palavras e os pensamentos. Fosse meu o teu coração, o teu corpo, o teu respirar.

Fosse meu o meu coração, os meus pensamentos.


Mandava-os a todos parar. Naquele instante em que nenhum destes elementos mostrou o seu pudor, naquele instante que foi meu... e teu. Só nesse instante em que duvidaste da realidade que, por ser tão nossa, já era tão pouco real.

Foi nossa. Mas não foi minha. Não foi tua.

Fosse meu o tempo. Sim, mandava-o parar nesse instante. Aquele sorriso era meu. Era nosso.

swallow

If I would ask you... would you do it for me? Swallow my heart and never let it beat again?

Just let it run down your throat as if it was fresh bread in the morning... I don't need it anymore. Hearts get old quickly if you use them too much... i didn't know that before.


No. I didn't know it before....

Princess Y

I once fell in love with you
Just because the sky turned from gray
Into blue
It was a good friday
The streets were open and empty
No more passion play
On st. Nicholas avenue
I believe in st. Nicholas
Its a different type of santa clause




Lyrics from "Good Friday", CocoRosie

KissTalkKissTalkKissTalk............ Kiss!

Come on: Kiss me as you would talk to me or talk to me as if you would kiss me.

Forget the order of things.

As long as you talk.
As long as you kiss.


In the end, both of them, wether it be kissing or talking... are the communication agreement we established between us.

No order. No names. No catalogues.



Will you kiss me now? Or you'd rather talk?






foto extraída de: http://olhares.aeiou.pt/foto1255003.html

Das Logik des Schaffens

ich bewundere sowieso die menschen, die ohnehin sagen können: "ich schaffe es." Ich frage mich ob sie überhaupt meinen, das was sie wirklich sagen.

"Ich schaffe es nicht."
Und ich sage es so jetzt nicht aus Lust. Nicht aus Frust.
Ich sage es aus eigene Entscheidung: "ich schaffe es nicht."

"ich will es nicht schaffen. Ich will nur, dass es passiert."

Irgendwann passiert es auch und ich, die Puppe meines Lebens, geniesse es...

the verb

To cry.... is not a matter of weakness.
No.
To cry... is a matter of letting go,
releasing the bandages of memory that capture us in a moment of emotional openness.






There's no need to remember to cry.
No.
There's no need to remember at all.







I didn't need to remember if only you gave me the chance to forget it all....

Quem vê o mar através de um binóculo nunca molha os pés

Acaba aquilo que começaste com a mesma força de vontade que te levou ao início:

viver as coisas a meio é como ver o mar através de um binóculo... está tão perto mas não te pertence. A plenitude da sua água salgada só é tua no momento em que te deixas molhar por ela e é o vai-e-vem das ondas que determina a intimidade que nesse momento se cria.

Quem fica a meio do caminho não se lembra já do início e nem sequer conhece o fim:

e será precisamente este meio-termo entre o vivido e o por-viver que lhe dará a certeza de uma segurança imparcial mas duradoura. Deixa nascer as raízes que brotam dos teus pés e tenta crescer aí, nesse terreno que não é nada mas pode ser tudo. Enquanto tiveres os binóculos poderás sempre ver tudo aquilo que podia um dia ter sido e nunca foi. Desistir não é fraqueza mas sim um acto de coragem... Coragem de parar com a consciência de que não se chegou ao fim, coragem para ver a vida passar á distância de uma lente óptica.

Quem vê o mar através de um binóculo nunca molha os pés. Os meus pés estão molhados até aos joelhos... E no gozo das ondas saboreio a água fresca que o mar me deu - e que é minha nesse momento! Lá em cima... brilha a luz de uma lua cheia que só os meus olhos podem ver mas nunca os teus.

small orange memories

Stop hunting the ghost of me. Small orange box hiding on the corner... You're the monster in my mind, you're the phantom in my heart.

Stop hunting. Why do you have to be there when I give myself to someone else? What's the point of keeping something you know you will never use anymore?

Stop hunting.
Stop hunting.

Stop being here... I don't want to feel the need of screaming your name when pleasure is bursting out of my veins, my mouth is feeling a new taste, my hands discovering another body. There's no space for you between us...

there should be no room for you here....

You are closed and sealed in this small orange box hidden on the corner of my room.

Stay there.

As caixinhas

As caixinhas da minha alma não têm fechadura.

Os viciados

O prazer traz o teu cheiro e o teu cheiro esconde o prazer.


Ainda não decidi com qual deles quero ficar.

O vício tem algo de mágico escondido. Não se trata de decidir.

Não.

Descobri o outro prazer no querer continuar na roda viva do teu vício:

O prazer traz o teu cheiro.

E o teu cheiro o prazer.

Fair play

No. It is not fair to hide your tears behind the smile of someone else. You should work your tears out and be able to smile for yourself.
And I don't believe it's fair to spend your kisses in someone else's mouth just because the one which owns them doesn't feel like taking them anymore. You pretend to rent a new heart and glue them on the old one. Does it make you feel better? To create new feelings, new emotions that hide the old painful ones. You put your bleeding heart in an orange box and pretend you don't know where you hide it. Nonetheless you know. But it is easier to pretend. It gives you time to play the make believe. Maybe someday you believe in what you want to believe.

Life doesn't give you time for fair plays. You are in and you are supposed to make it roll. No matter how, no matter why.

I know I don't play fair. But... does anyone even bother to ask me if i wanted to play at all?

why don't you just go?

You closed the door behind you. You did. There is no way you can't prove the opposite.
You closed the door behind you because you needed, because you wanted, because you couldn't be inside our four walls anymore.

You closed the door behind you and stood in the hallway.


I want to go out. This walls are to big for me alone. I need more space.

Why don't you just go? The hallway is to tight for both of us and i need to go through it alone.