tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29323371609299514902024-03-14T00:41:38.371+00:00IMPRECISÕES"... Já não sou eu, mas outro que mal acaba de começar. ..." Samuel BeckettAna Vieira da Silvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05639540905654490292noreply@blogger.comBlogger395125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932337160929951490.post-51266788435511982502012-03-03T15:57:00.000+00:002012-03-03T15:57:15.412+00:00The city sunset over me<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/99k8w65v3_I" width="420"></iframe><br />
<br />
</div>Ana Vieira da Silvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05639540905654490292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932337160929951490.post-4606483285140705552012-03-03T15:22:00.000+00:002012-03-03T15:22:39.798+00:00the space between<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="259" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/VFcJ0a3aBJs" width="450"></iframe></div>Ana Vieira da Silvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05639540905654490292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932337160929951490.post-31972778555366113592012-03-03T15:13:00.000+00:002012-03-03T15:13:07.591+00:00O Homem que falava com o ventoSentou-se para escrever o que tinha ouvido, à janela.<br />
Com a mão esquerda, agarrou na chávena de chá,<br />
fechou-se como pálpebras<br />
(uma na outra)<br />
a ouvir a água que trazia<br />
o poema. <br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/3-AdYCzXTfk" width="420"></iframe></div>Ana Vieira da Silvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05639540905654490292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932337160929951490.post-34845600992728421692012-02-12T22:07:00.001+00:002012-02-12T22:09:29.609+00:00The way life is<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/qxSt_w2ODaQ" width="420"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i>"<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I have many references, many images, so that in a sense I have no images. </span></i></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Because I could just as well substitute one image for another, in the joycean </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">sense of there being not a symbol but multiple symbols. </span></i></div></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><i>One thing can build on another, or you can suddenly have something - the same thing- being something else ...</i></span></span></div></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><i>That seems to me the way life is anyway."</i></span></span></div></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: right;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><b>Merce Cunningham </b></span></span></div>Ana Vieira da Silvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05639540905654490292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932337160929951490.post-78318998387605481172012-02-12T22:05:00.001+00:002012-02-12T22:10:00.273+00:00Helen Keller - o som e o tacto<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Gv1uLfF35Uw" width="420"></iframe><br />
<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/8ch_H8pt9M8" width="420"></iframe></div>Ana Vieira da Silvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05639540905654490292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932337160929951490.post-46911610375803638062012-02-05T15:55:00.000+00:002012-02-05T15:55:12.065+00:00Almost<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq69dC8yvTWFxUoJZY6NV3zwKCvyYEwdg6COCDy2hc_dBbHT8QQliV7luGQNqD0465W_neTrxEer99k1urhCE5bdiYgnQuTMKkwWzXmjtFqcYgrQJnRfbE9GosPRV3UxFLeHQbnCBlZFQ/s1600/e.e.cummings.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq69dC8yvTWFxUoJZY6NV3zwKCvyYEwdg6COCDy2hc_dBbHT8QQliV7luGQNqD0465W_neTrxEer99k1urhCE5bdiYgnQuTMKkwWzXmjtFqcYgrQJnRfbE9GosPRV3UxFLeHQbnCBlZFQ/s1600/e.e.cummings.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">nalgum lugar em que eu nunca estive, alegremente além </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">de qualquer experiência, teus olhos têm o seu silêncio: </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">no teu gesto mais frágil há coisas que me encerram, </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">ou que eu não ouso tocar porque estão demasiado perto </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">teu mais ligeiro olhar facilmente me descerra </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">embora eu tenha me fechado como dedos, nalgum lugar </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">nada que eu possa perceber neste universo iguala </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">o poder da tua imensa fragilidade: cuja textura </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">compele-me com a cor dos seus continentes, </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">restituindo a morte e o sempre cada vez mais respira </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">(não sei dizer o que há em mim que fecha </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">e abre; só uma parte de mim compreende que a </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">voz dos teus olhos é mais profunda que todas as rosas) </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">ninguém, nem mesmo a chuva, tem mãos tão pequenas </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>e.e. cummings </b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br />
</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/c-ayuRE5xd8" width="420"></iframe></div>Ana Vieira da Silvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05639540905654490292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932337160929951490.post-87065655596947222852012-02-05T14:12:00.000+00:002012-02-05T14:12:24.234+00:00Like a good book<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/3uho2NQw1GY" width="420"></iframe></div>Ana Vieira da Silvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05639540905654490292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932337160929951490.post-77158995263027477812012-02-05T14:07:00.000+00:002012-02-05T14:07:26.206+00:00Uma espécie de amor<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp-vJao_9MxNryD55gpZ0Q30VAwfXyY9LsdnPgmhhFp6vVE7Mza8l1NleRkRuR3IRnxpMHvTRnsQk_By0VuWM1ltqP9biZUKQ4BRDApLvuUoWwBH1LMmHVWNCogiUvyG037e8HnGwapbg/s1600/corac%CC%A7a%CC%83o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp-vJao_9MxNryD55gpZ0Q30VAwfXyY9LsdnPgmhhFp6vVE7Mza8l1NleRkRuR3IRnxpMHvTRnsQk_By0VuWM1ltqP9biZUKQ4BRDApLvuUoWwBH1LMmHVWNCogiUvyG037e8HnGwapbg/s1600/corac%CC%A7a%CC%83o.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Escondido, atrás dos olhos! </span></div>Ana Vieira da Silvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05639540905654490292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932337160929951490.post-50473587862791887472012-01-29T15:11:00.001+00:002012-02-05T21:13:30.551+00:00Rostos pendurados nas mãos<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo_Nw7HPlHbrZWuyoSAAI_3rVFulFxcOH7WowqJEOjaahyphenhyphennW-NnIbtL6Eb0K-eXhVHsUcLP8bF47ngYNlXJYeH5OmrDR86r9QOycGjs6rqYRmbyIJ81WbOBmQfUI3PnOvSRGHWhDgH-DQ/s1600/Merci+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo_Nw7HPlHbrZWuyoSAAI_3rVFulFxcOH7WowqJEOjaahyphenhyphennW-NnIbtL6Eb0K-eXhVHsUcLP8bF47ngYNlXJYeH5OmrDR86r9QOycGjs6rqYRmbyIJ81WbOBmQfUI3PnOvSRGHWhDgH-DQ/s320/Merci+3.jpg" width="278" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE95_QR72Vdwq4-qfYzJJea9qQx-t0oYVdSonlzm87gVp12-K1DKDkchZiae9RCTBEGaZviXav39-O_bljgYN1huNe9jwiQz4c7TgP0BTO7qN5GCdLzJeI7rd9azgHF7mRrqDqd1Nvpf8/s1600/Merci+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE95_QR72Vdwq4-qfYzJJea9qQx-t0oYVdSonlzm87gVp12-K1DKDkchZiae9RCTBEGaZviXav39-O_bljgYN1huNe9jwiQz4c7TgP0BTO7qN5GCdLzJeI7rd9azgHF7mRrqDqd1Nvpf8/s1600/Merci+2.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZQUxJjPootwCtViai8o60WJwIaJpMCDiGGf7DT70LjKUNjkfOJiHnwLcPTPweC9UCW63FWsOLiwcGJQHmds-oD5DFWnDCiWl9e4Ew4RnD8vQ6m4dwN-ABnOs8u9BUQQ1L6Sg3rnQrwoU/s1600/Merci+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZQUxJjPootwCtViai8o60WJwIaJpMCDiGGf7DT70LjKUNjkfOJiHnwLcPTPweC9UCW63FWsOLiwcGJQHmds-oD5DFWnDCiWl9e4Ew4RnD8vQ6m4dwN-ABnOs8u9BUQQ1L6Sg3rnQrwoU/s320/Merci+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>(dialogo entre mãos) </b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">- Estas mãos ... </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">- Prenderam-se no rosto!</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>Ana Vieira da Silvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05639540905654490292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932337160929951490.post-15890676526902651692012-01-29T14:55:00.001+00:002012-01-29T14:58:03.302+00:00Somos livros<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjctu6l_bLdhiYCuZ8rlGxxQ9VdNfX0zWjdhAfUPS1lruw147pF4fF2aCijKIE50jp3vLnmCocpuE2eEdtxh_3azarZ4gAvqSWQA_sZhE_2fWD37bCHnDFIdF2ebwAdcvdwCnBKP6NXUbY/s1600/Janela+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjctu6l_bLdhiYCuZ8rlGxxQ9VdNfX0zWjdhAfUPS1lruw147pF4fF2aCijKIE50jp3vLnmCocpuE2eEdtxh_3azarZ4gAvqSWQA_sZhE_2fWD37bCHnDFIdF2ebwAdcvdwCnBKP6NXUbY/s320/Janela+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">- E se, na realidade, fossemos todos livros? Se vivêssemos no meio dos parágrafos, pendurados nas virgulas e nos pontos finais ou, mesmo, encurralados nas interrogações? </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">- Mais fácil seria, com certeza! </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">- Porquê? </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">- Os bons livros nunca dormem. De noite ou de dia, quando temos insónias ou sonhos saborosos, estão sempre lá. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">- Disponíveis? </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">- Não, ao alcance! </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">- Isso... </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">- Basta. </span></div>Ana Vieira da Silvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05639540905654490292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932337160929951490.post-78187178644952218752012-01-28T23:32:00.000+00:002012-01-28T23:32:57.210+00:00Such silence<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/eyjvYByB6vA" width="420"></iframe><br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/uphqyjAkYIU" width="420"></iframe><br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/VhorTxceHhY" width="420"></iframe></div>Ana Vieira da Silvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05639540905654490292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932337160929951490.post-22210965924554598012012-01-28T23:23:00.000+00:002012-01-28T23:23:04.052+00:00The Artist<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="243" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/OK7pfLlsUQM" width="420"></iframe><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Tanto. </span></div>Ana Vieira da Silvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05639540905654490292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932337160929951490.post-55739368505991248602012-01-25T23:04:00.000+00:002012-01-25T23:04:54.860+00:00O Eco<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="243" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/ipTwEKsM94A" width="420"></iframe><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="font: 14.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>“... (...) Às vezes não tenho tanto a certeza de quem tem o direito de dizer quando um homem é louco e quando não é. Às vezes penso que não há ninguém completamente louco tal como não há ninguém completamente são até a opinião geral o considerar assim ou assado. É como se não fosse tanto o que um tipo faz, mas o modo como a maioria das pessoas o encara quando o faz. ...(...)”</i>. </span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 14px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 17px; text-align: right;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">William Faulkner, in 'Na Minha Morte'</span></b><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></div></div>Ana Vieira da Silvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05639540905654490292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932337160929951490.post-66735066539166416932012-01-25T22:44:00.001+00:002012-01-25T22:49:34.122+00:00As memórias das imagens<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paideia"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyBsknyYHYGIbXUcZWucGXOQPUsfEfjMVTNdC8-IT9NsgGx2T7_SGciOG5erj34X9oPLPrFgkmVZkpiZHmAoHPcoeIpG9EEE55ihs3dIK6MEGI1VUme2CDtgwhmm3nuXSfDSI_phGDdnw/s1600/Paide%25CC%2581ia+.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>"(...) ... a essência de toda a verdadeira educação ou paideia é a que dá ao homem o desejo e a ânsia de se tornar um cidadão perfeito; ensina a mandar e a obedecer, tendo a justiça como fundamento. ...(...)". </i></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Platão</b> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Ana Vieira da Silvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05639540905654490292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932337160929951490.post-2133045621491178302012-01-22T15:45:00.000+00:002012-01-22T15:45:43.236+00:00Marcel Duchamp, John Cage and Samuel Beckett<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/mJ5Cl30_KvE" width="420"></iframe><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><b>"Nada é mais real que nada" </b></i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Samuel Beckett </span></div>Ana Vieira da Silvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05639540905654490292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932337160929951490.post-28638453365652459282012-01-22T15:42:00.003+00:002012-01-22T15:59:09.643+00:00Usufruir<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/dXINTf8kXCc" width="420"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>- Usufruir do tempo, do espaço e do modo.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Usufruir! </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Com o olhar, com nada e com tudo. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Sem ter medo do desejo. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Ano, após ano, o tempo corre. Silenciosamente. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>(um silencio cheio - </i><i>sabe o que sente a chuva, o frio e o escuro) </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Pudéssemos nós aproximar-nos do céu tal como ele se aproxima da terra. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>E usufruir dos pequenos nadas que valem tudo. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;">- <i><b>Só isso</b>?</i></div><div style="text-align: center;">- <i>Sim, só isso</i>. </div><div style="text-align: center;">- <i><b>Usufruir entre dois sorrisos brancos de partilha? </b></i></div><div style="text-align: center;">- <i>Brancos?! Sim, do branco que amplifica o poema.</i> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Ana Vieira da Silvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05639540905654490292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932337160929951490.post-53188722197071716252012-01-22T15:11:00.000+00:002012-01-22T15:11:50.767+00:00Follow Me<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/hvn2UObYSsI" width="420"></iframe><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Goodbye to all that!</span> </div>Ana Vieira da Silvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05639540905654490292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932337160929951490.post-16881058351517635332012-01-22T15:06:00.000+00:002012-01-22T15:06:22.980+00:00Verticalidade<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/5VBADqhe7i8" width="420"></iframe><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Crescemos perfumados de afectos e de mensagens de que a vida é para ser vivida, com verticalidade. Abraçamos projectos, no pressuposto do desinteresse. </div><div style="text-align: center;">O tempo passou. </div><div style="text-align: center;">(o tempo, também, passa) </div><div style="text-align: center;">O colorido da paisagem transforma-se numa terrível tempestade. </div><div style="text-align: center;">- Crescemos?</div><div style="text-align: center;">- Sim, crescemos. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Sem que o mundo tivesse parado. </div></div>Ana Vieira da Silvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05639540905654490292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932337160929951490.post-11293938826774572182012-01-14T21:40:00.000+00:002012-01-14T21:40:50.517+00:00Fora do presente<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/eokFOfi8SQE?rel=0" width="420"></iframe><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>Ana Vieira da Silvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05639540905654490292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932337160929951490.post-5314701751829710402012-01-14T21:22:00.000+00:002012-01-14T21:22:35.067+00:00Just breaths<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/kS9SUmAyKWM?rel=0" width="420"></iframe><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>"In the end, it`s not going to matter how many breaths you took but how many moments took your breath away!"</i></span></div>Ana Vieira da Silvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05639540905654490292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932337160929951490.post-40869758423920380252012-01-10T22:20:00.001+00:002012-01-10T22:43:10.469+00:00A Vida é um Hábito<div style="font: normal normal normal 14px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/wYnAQ-lK74A?rel=0" width="420"></iframe></i></span></span></div><div style="font: 14.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>"(...) O hábito é o balastro que prende o cão ao seu vómito. Respirar é um hábito. A vida é um hábito. Ou melhor, a vida é uma sucessão de hábitos, porque o indivíduo é uma sucessão de indivíduos [...] «Hábito» é pois o termo genérico para os inúmeros contratos celebrados entre os inúmeros sujeitos que constituem o indivíduo e os seus inúmeros objectos correlativos. Os períodos de transição que separam as consecutivas adaptações [...] representam as zonas perigosas na vida do indivíduo, perigosas, penosas, misteriosas e férteis, em que, por um momento, o tédio de viver é substituído pelo sofrimento de ser. (...)". </i></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 14px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: right;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>Samuel Beckett, in 'À Espera de Godot'</b></span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b><br />
</b></span></span></div></div>Ana Vieira da Silvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05639540905654490292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932337160929951490.post-91557626675627666992012-01-10T22:07:00.002+00:002012-01-10T22:43:40.415+00:00Sobre o Caminho<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMjvMQpsWRmuVZyvzeScbDX2H6Tq1a1N7bzaAAej33XpoFYmTeZGq6ZfJ5Mxn0Qo8AdYab-vSlzDwi2zM9o9MwtS_0asRqi3EWTOMDL-nu1ijTysUnlhD7PIusnRWqa09WY-T2MmNc2xo/s1600/loucura.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMjvMQpsWRmuVZyvzeScbDX2H6Tq1a1N7bzaAAej33XpoFYmTeZGq6ZfJ5Mxn0Qo8AdYab-vSlzDwi2zM9o9MwtS_0asRqi3EWTOMDL-nu1ijTysUnlhD7PIusnRWqa09WY-T2MmNc2xo/s320/loucura.jpg" width="279" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="font: 14.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Nada </span></span></div></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 14px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 17px; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 14.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">nem o branco fogo do trigo </span></span></div></div><div style="font: 14.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">nem as agulhas cravadas na pupila dos pássaros </span></span></div></div><div style="font: 14.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">te dirão a palavra </span></span></div></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 14px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 17px; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 14.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Não interrogues não perguntes </span></span></div></div><div style="font: 14.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">entre a razão e a turbulência da neve </span></span></div></div><div style="font: 14.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">não há diferença </span></span></div></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 14px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 17px; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 14.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Não colecciones dejectos o teu destino és tu </span></span></div></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 14px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 17px; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 14.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Despe-te </span></span></div></div><div style="font: 14.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">não há outro caminho </span></span></div></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 14px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 17px; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 14.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><b>Eugénio de Andrade, in "Véspera da Água"</b></span></span></div></div>Ana Vieira da Silvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05639540905654490292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932337160929951490.post-71425031797585194442012-01-07T16:53:00.001+00:002012-01-07T16:56:36.107+00:00Merci<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/ML4ffX4pvjk?rel=0" width="420"></iframe><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">- Cérebro, coração e mãos?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">- Presente!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">- "Merci". </span></div>Ana Vieira da Silvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05639540905654490292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932337160929951490.post-3730774615653284972012-01-07T16:43:00.000+00:002012-01-07T16:43:03.280+00:00Os Outros<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/-ZJDNSp1QJA?rel=0" width="420"></iframe></div>Ana Vieira da Silvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05639540905654490292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2932337160929951490.post-27698710820991110132012-01-07T15:08:00.001+00:002012-01-15T17:15:27.673+00:00Espaço<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKpau5eaYgzrbHEm5n8bV0J6cc5RjSUgejQ73hRJJUBQGRJ2KBFCfPRDBwSJxOBDFae3Q-qnL3_pomnoUYk4BJdBHbtO3UqEekgSC8_K9rf6f5s5b02YdinmH_MbNRh1sEULkEG4FnWBo/s1600/LuaVenus009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKpau5eaYgzrbHEm5n8bV0J6cc5RjSUgejQ73hRJJUBQGRJ2KBFCfPRDBwSJxOBDFae3Q-qnL3_pomnoUYk4BJdBHbtO3UqEekgSC8_K9rf6f5s5b02YdinmH_MbNRh1sEULkEG4FnWBo/s320/LuaVenus009.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"Não confundir amizade (ou amor) com «interesse». É uma máxima canónica. Pois. Mas que amizade (ou amor) não assenta no interesse dela? Porque é o interesse que cria condições não apenas para o interesseirismo mas para a própria amizade. Só nos interessa a amizade de quem nos interessa... Os meus hábitos de vida exigem para as relações o que entre de algum modo nesse hábitos. Nem tem sentido gostar-se de alguém por si mesmo. O «si» mesmo é todo o espaço em que se manifesta. O meu único espaço habitável para os outros é o que lhes invento em alguns livros. No resto vivo só eu."</span></i></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>Vergílio Ferreira</b></span></div>Ana Vieira da Silvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05639540905654490292noreply@blogger.com0