Saltar para: Posts [1], Pesquisa e Arquivos [2]




por talesforlove, em 26.04.13

The work of a writer

A writer is not an actor. His work pretends to be a portrait of the most profound feelings of all the characters that live inside the tales he imagines. It is not an objective to see a face that really shows something that is strange to the hart of the person who is an actor. To write is to go hand in hand with the reader; not in a path of "real" landscapes, made of sand and stones, trees and grass, but of smiles, praies and weeping or tears, praies and busts of laughter's, with happy sounds together with them. The landscape of the writer is painted with words and letter, open and closed vowels, consonants and brain signals. Everything is like a group of small drops of electricity that combined create an illusion almost as real as reality. All this can happen during the night:  the writer doesn't have a brush or a palette. His most important instrument are his glasses, not to look to the piece of paper in front of him but to see (and think about) the world and the social movement that happens... everyday. Nevertheless, he is an ordinary man. If he wasn't he wouldn't be able to understand the reasons that explain the movements of woman and men in a complex society. You must believe that the human society is more complex than a society of monkeys! And you may smile thinking about this comparison but the truth is that they are our friends and we all together are a family: the cell of my novel, the piece of flesh the writer sees with the help of his microscope. It is marvelous to understand the machinery of the human reality, especially when we are a part of it.

Autoria e outros dados (tags, etc)


por talesforlove, em 23.04.13

Strange flower

I would like, so much, to have your fragrance.

Tender, calid and gently coloured flower...

Contrasts with the top of the mountain where you live:

it is between rocks and dry sand your home.

Autoria e outros dados (tags, etc)


por talesforlove, em 09.04.13

Poema - Poem in Portuguese

A Flor Azul Marinho
Pequena, como uma estrela da noite.

Luminosa, tal qual um noturno ponto de luz.

Junto de ti talvez alguém pernoite.

Mas, em mim, é o dia em ti que me seduz!


Generosa, como a luminosidade da manhã.

Frágil, como a pequenez infantil.

Peço-te, dá-me um melhor amanhã.

E espelha nele o teu sentir Primaveril!


FIM

Autoria e outros dados (tags, etc)


Mais sobre mim

foto do autor



Arquivo

  1. 2018
  2. JAN
  3. FEV
  4. MAR
  5. ABR
  6. MAI
  7. JUN
  8. JUL
  9. AGO
  10. SET
  11. OUT
  12. NOV
  13. DEZ
  14. 2017
  15. JAN
  16. FEV
  17. MAR
  18. ABR
  19. MAI
  20. JUN
  21. JUL
  22. AGO
  23. SET
  24. OUT
  25. NOV
  26. DEZ
  27. 2016
  28. JAN
  29. FEV
  30. MAR
  31. ABR
  32. MAI
  33. JUN
  34. JUL
  35. AGO
  36. SET
  37. OUT
  38. NOV
  39. DEZ
  40. 2015
  41. JAN
  42. FEV
  43. MAR
  44. ABR
  45. MAI
  46. JUN
  47. JUL
  48. AGO
  49. SET
  50. OUT
  51. NOV
  52. DEZ
  53. 2014
  54. JAN
  55. FEV
  56. MAR
  57. ABR
  58. MAI
  59. JUN
  60. JUL
  61. AGO
  62. SET
  63. OUT
  64. NOV
  65. DEZ
  66. 2013
  67. JAN
  68. FEV
  69. MAR
  70. ABR
  71. MAI
  72. JUN
  73. JUL
  74. AGO
  75. SET
  76. OUT
  77. NOV
  78. DEZ
  79. 2012
  80. JAN
  81. FEV
  82. MAR
  83. ABR
  84. MAI
  85. JUN
  86. JUL
  87. AGO
  88. SET
  89. OUT
  90. NOV
  91. DEZ
  92. 2011
  93. JAN
  94. FEV
  95. MAR
  96. ABR
  97. MAI
  98. JUN
  99. JUL
  100. AGO
  101. SET
  102. OUT
  103. NOV
  104. DEZ
  105. 2010
  106. JAN
  107. FEV
  108. MAR
  109. ABR
  110. MAI
  111. JUN
  112. JUL
  113. AGO
  114. SET
  115. OUT
  116. NOV
  117. DEZ
  118. 2009
  119. JAN
  120. FEV
  121. MAR
  122. ABR
  123. MAI
  124. JUN
  125. JUL
  126. AGO
  127. SET
  128. OUT
  129. NOV
  130. DEZ

Promotion of Blogs - One



subscrever feeds


search!