Em época de limpezas, espécie de spring cleaning mas atrasada, reconduzo neste blog alguns dos posts que pari noutro, agora reformado.

Tuesday, May 15, 2001
Another day
by juliao @ 07:50 PM GMT
Today was just another day. Another mood, undistinguished. Another set of silly problems and concerns, another boring day of longing.

And what do I long for? I don't know. Is it for all this to be over? For all what to be over? Nothing is going on, nothing that I can look ahead to and anticipate a change. All the changes are in my hands. And that is, at the same time, good and bad.



Tuesday, May 8, 2001
People, light and the illusion of faces
by juliao @ 06:15 PM GMT

She is pretty. Or isn't she? Or was I just in a sad day when I thought she was pretty?

Sometimes as we grow sadder we long for this something like comfort or warmth or whatever it is. Some times we feel like being close to people, closer to someone. And then we look around and somehow our criteria changes, and we start thinking that she's pretty, and she's pretty, and she's pretty too.

Sometimes we should just go back to sleep.


Monday, April 16, 2001
The sound of words on a non existant paper
by juliao @ 08:02 PM GMT
Why do I write, why do I keep a record?

As if it were a set of pictures of my footprints on some sandy beach, as if I were taking photos because I know the sea will come tonight and wet the prints and make the sand virgin again.

The sea always erases. So does time, like an eternal ocean, like our lives were the beaches time touches, every day, night after night.