Seguidores
sexta-feira, 23 de agosto de 2013
Florence tomb opened in search for identity of Mona Lisa ( REUTERS)
quinta-feira, 22 de agosto de 2013
ESCOLHAS !!!
seja do criador,
pode ser desesperar...
quarta-feira, 21 de agosto de 2013
AMERICAN NOBEL OF LITERATURE
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| PAUL KLEE |
- 1930: Sinclair Lewis (novelist)
- 1936: Eugene O'Neill (playwright)
- 1938: Pearl S. Buck (biographer and novelist)
- 1948: T. S. Eliot (poet and playwright)
- 1949: William Faulkner (novelist)
- 1954: Ernest Hemingway (novelist)
- 1962: John Steinbeck (novelist)
- 1976: Saul Bellow (novelist)
- 1978: Isaac Bashevis Singer (novelist, wrote in Yiddish)
- 1993: Toni Morrison (novelist)
segunda-feira, 19 de agosto de 2013
JOHN HOLLANDER (1929-2013)
John Hollander, Poet at Ease With Intellectualism and Wit, Dies at 83
By WILLIAM GRIMES
Published: August 18, 2013
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domingo, 18 de agosto de 2013
ET SI TU N'EXISTAIS PAS (Joe Dassin)
Et Si Tu N'existais Pas
sábado, 17 de agosto de 2013
sexta-feira, 16 de agosto de 2013
GALOS DA ACADEMIA
O GALO GARNISÉ
Escrevia Virgílio em seu diário :
La pelos idos de 1960, passando por Brasília, visitei um amigo que tinha um Galo Garnisé vivendo dentro de casa. Garnisé era considerado um importante membro da família .
....
....
Assim participo desta especial coletânea
da Academia de Letras de Brasília .
quinta-feira, 15 de agosto de 2013
GONÇALO IVO, BEST PAINTER THAT I KNOW !!!
quarta-feira, 14 de agosto de 2013
segunda-feira, 12 de agosto de 2013
sábado, 10 de agosto de 2013
Viagem !!!
sexta-feira, 9 de agosto de 2013
Japan !!!
quinta-feira, 8 de agosto de 2013
quarta-feira, 7 de agosto de 2013
segunda-feira, 5 de agosto de 2013
Natasha Romanov
Drummond
sábado, 3 de agosto de 2013
Giovanna não profetizava ...
sexta-feira, 2 de agosto de 2013
http://theharo.ca/archives/59
Fireworks
She wakes up to a flash of light. The rays touch down on two used up glow sticks next to her bed, slightly illuminating them. The previous night washes over her: the hustle of the street party, shoes kicking up dust, vendors twirling bracelets in the air. She didn’t expect to see him in the middle of the crowd, but here he is, lying beside her. It is still early in the morning and the street is quiet.
“You’re awake,” he groans, rolling over and grabbing her by the waist. She turns around and looks at him like a stranger.
“You need to go,” she says evenly.
He sits up on the bed caressing his chest in a solitary gesture. She observes the rhythm of his fingers as he takes in the room; his eyes flicker from the mauve sheets, to the picture now catching the light on the nightstand.
“Do you still love him?” He asks.
She hesitates, focused on the glow sticks appearing to move ever so slightly beneath the faded picture. Her gaze moves to the floorboards pounding with music from below.
“My neighbours,” she justifies getting up from the bed.
“When the fireworks exploded last night, you said you missed me,” he comments, as she turns towards the door.
“And that you loved me,” he adds feeling her silence.














