footprints

Someone said that people are like piles of sand.
Like the ones you build dropping grain after grain on top of each other.

That is
the personality

Being build up to a certain point.
And then… You know.
Some grains just don’t stick anymore.

But that’s not just it.
At that point any grain can start an avalanche.

I can agree with that.
Some avalanches can even be enormous.

Rarely I know, I keep walking, as the horizontal beach seems wide.

Um banco de jardim pintado de fresco

O preço está asfixiado na garrafa de vinho.
No fundo
de um comboio suburbano
por aquelas mãos azuis
no cú de granito de um bloco
de casas pintadas

Peixe à tona

stms qs chgr. Dv sr pr ss q gr n ncst d bnc d frnt st mznh pndrd n prlngmnt dql cbç mrtç q lh pr trs. cr d garoupa n dsst nqnt n v chgr rrpndd sps.
rrpnt.
s cbçs rçrm nvs tnttvs. msm lgnc.

W

Is a loop being closed again
Has my skin peeled off
Am I to be that
Am I to perceive those so many stories
Am I to be amazed
Has been
Is there a rite

Why is the scene not being sucked by the living surroundings?

sucker

There was only one place in town where I could find it.
I didn’t know this before I started looking for.
It took me some tens of walked miles and thus sweat and pains until I followed the last hint someone gave me to find this small bizarre-as-all-should-look-like drugstore.
Behind the counter displaying a full set of different kinds and shapes of razor blades there was this middle-aged guy.
He was tall and bold and wore a lousy t-shirt and a thick cigar on his lips.
Yeah, he told me had it.
He spoke perfect English and started asking me questions about the machine that I didn’t know the answers to. Well I could tell him the basic…
He obviously had a good impression on this specific brand and soon he was telling me I should go for the originals, the original bags. These were not in paper, as they are usually expected. They were in this special cloth which I can’t remember the name, and with all these special features that should enforce me to take them… I couldn’t stop thinking that I was getting advise on this exquisite wine whose characteristics this guy just absolutely adored and could turn into these words that really anticipate your perception when tasting it.
He turned his attention to the cigar and then he also gave some tips on how to optimise the performance just by changing some other spare parts that were also included with the bags.
I took it.
At the moment I was just hoping that he guessed right and I was walking home with the proper things so I wouldn’t have to return and change them as he promptly offered to in case of misfit.
But guys, when I finally got home, put the new bags in, which were as he predicted the right ones, and turned the thing on… That sucker just grabbed the floor like I never seen any other do.

T.A. mesmo click

by Pedro

Robert Silverberg's

He walked toward the bus stop. It was a chilly night, the wind cutting into his bones. He was tired.
As he rounded the corner, he paused, wheezing.


By some standards he was a successful man but life hadn´t been any joy ride. It had been rocky and fear-torn, filled with doubts, disappointments, hangovers.

He realized he was more than half glad he was almost at the end of his road. Life, he saw now, had really been a struggle not worth the bother.

There was the bus, half a block ahead, and he was going to miss it.
He began to run and stumbled as a cold hand squeezed tight around his heart. The sidewalk sprang up to meet him, and he knew this was death. For a startled instant he fought for control, and then he relaxed as the blackness swept down.

He opened his eyes again and looked around. He wailed in despair as the hand firmly slapped his rear and breath roared into his lungs.

Resta o amor, uma voz desafinada a trautear aquilo que depressa se torna um revivalismo extremo de Julio Iglesias e pouco mais...
(ver Os Lusíadas)

Uma Lisboeta emite um olhar terno e compreensivo

Local: Toronto ou qq coisa parecida

Banda sonora: Cat Power

Lisboeta de tronco nú, com um ténis roto e um dente meio desfeito cuspido pela manhã

Local: Toronto ou qq coisa parecida

Banda sonora: Serafim Saudade

Ao miguelito, que se lembrava

telegrama - isto não é hipertexto

bem frisada
a alface
Quero marcar distintamente
golos
Há maluca
e há quem queira
tapar o sol

com a pena
sobrevoar videiras
intoxicar-se i.e.
uma grande

(B tripeiro)
Carpa aos saltos encarpados
na poça
Da irmã
com meias de alcatrão ao joelho
olhos de alface
no corpo inteiro.

Carreguem nestas palavras, o peso de uma ligação inexistente.

Hotel Acacia

Sean Gordon desceu ao porão encaracolado pelas escadas.
Incapaz de desfazer a excentricidade contra as traves de madeira do tecto baixo observou assim o pequeno rafeiro preto e de testículos inflamados que gozava a sonolência encostado a uma salamandra.
Um gato tigrado veio velar por esta trindade no topo das escadas.
As madeiras gretadas, um barómetro encastrado, o fumo que envolve o meu copo de vidro meio cheio de café preto e amarelo, tudo isto está bem.
Mas o corpo opulento e amorfo de Sean Gordon e a sua inércia a escorregar no cabedal que enverga são observados por mim.
O gato fita-me e boceja parecendo desinteressado em participar na súcia.
Resta-me esperar que de uma das vigias alguém me diga que inevitavelmente todos o fazemos.

Destes já não se fazem