they talk of cuba...

and i think of reynaldo*:



"why is it that we, the great majority of the people, and even the intellectuals, did not realize that this was the beginning of a new dictatorship, even bloodier that the previous one? perhaps we did realize it, but the enthusiasm of knowing that now one was part of a revolution, that a dictatorship has been overthrown and the time had come for vengeance, outweighed the injustices and the crimes that were being committed.
not only were injustices being inflicted; the executions were being conducted in the name of justice and freedom, and above all, in the name of the people.."

(*reynaldo arenas, before night falls)































(the scream, edvard munch)













.....



















you cannot shake hands
with a clenched fist.


(indira gandhi)











.

touched

.
adj.
emotionally affected; moved.
.















"what sort of diary should i like mine to be?...
something loose knit and yet not slovenly, so elastic that it will embrace any thing, solemn, slight or beautiful that comes into my mind.
i should like it to resemble some deep old desk, or capacious hold-all, in which one flings a mass of odds and ends without looking them through.
i should like to come back, after a year or two, and find that the collection had sorted itself and refined itself and coalessed - as such deposits so misteriously do - into a mould, transparent enough to reflect the light of our life."

(virginia woolf, a writer's diary)

...














"this diary is my kief, hashish and opium pipe.
this is my drug and my vice."

(anaïs nin)

...








thank you to those who
generously
share it with me.













for the kindness,










the presence,










the giving.

































(sky and water, m. c. escher)

...

"afin de ne pas vous blesser"

it's like falling knowing there's nothing below...



i look down (again) and see the crude darkness of the certainty of nothing at all,
a dazzled rock that now fears the sea...




yet nevertheless:


hand in hand, i go.



i fall as if flying, deepened with balance and happiness, as my body stops being my own or ours: we leave that weight behind and love as if resting from life, sometimes from ourselves,
we tattoo our hands with sand in nights full of moon and giving
- the blood pulsing,
the water being born.


we love with the fury of fear,
the unfair certainty of love,
so much less than life...


and we love in flight.

we love in vain.


for no safe refuge for this flight.

and all is dreams, after all.









open wings,










body,










fall(ing).























without knowing.



















feeling
the acute
silence
of falling
alone.















.














(silence, bogdan zwir)
























- my castrated wing...


when did you choose, in land,
to be water, flipper and sea?











































(reunited with her thoughts, haleh bryan)
















...











(imagem primeira, portrait, de haleh bryan)

missing

...











there are days when i could












simply















cry for you.