Mostrar mensagens com a etiqueta guilty as charge. Mostrar todas as mensagens
Mostrar mensagens com a etiqueta guilty as charge. Mostrar todas as mensagens

maio 01, 2009

people = oysters

" There are stories that are true, in which each individual's tale is unique and tragic, and the worst of the tragedy is that we have heard it before, and we cannot allow ourselves to feel it too deeply. We build a shell around it like an oyster dealing with a painful particle of grit, coating it with smooth pearl layers in order to cope. This is how we walk and talk and function, day in, day out, immune to others' pain and loss. If it were to touch us it would cripple us or make saints of us, but, for the most part, it does not touch us. We cannot allow it to.

Tonight, as you eat, reflect if you can: there are children starving in the world, starving in numbers larger than the mind can easily hold, up in the big numbers where an error of a million here, a million there, can be forgiven. It may be uncomfortable for you to reflect upon this or it may not, but still, you will eat.

No man, proclaimed Donne, is an Island, and he was wrong. If we were not islands, we would be lost, drowned in each other's tragedies. We are insulated ( a word that means literally, remember, made into an island) from the tragedy of others, by our island nature, and by the repetitive shape and form of the stories. We know the shape, and the shape does not change.

There was a human being who was born, lived, and then, by some means or other, died. There. You may fill in the details from your own experience. As unoriginal as any other tale, as unique as any other life.

Lives are snowflakes - unique in detail, forming patterns we have seen before.


[...]


We need individual stories. Without individuals we see only numbers: a thousand dead, a hundred thousand dead, 'casualties may rise to a million'. With individual stories, the statstics become people - but even that is a lie, dor the people continue to suffer in numbers that themselves are numbing and meaningless."

Neil Gaiman, American Gods

julho 04, 2008

guilty as charge

- She is beautiful. Still I close my eyes. And she is beautiful. With her gorgeus face and her sweet soft eyes. And I can not forget her. She lives inside my heart. She lives in and through me. And she is beautiful. She is on my head. It's just my mind playing tricks with me, - I say. But she is real. She does exist. And I can not forget her. I try to hide myself in the dark. From her. And especially from me. But she is there. Haunting me. Showing that I can not escape her. That no matter what I do she'll be there with me. Forever. It's an effortless temptative try to deny her. She is real. She is beautiful. And I can not forget her.

junho 13, 2008

Compra-se tempo


A perspectiva de ter um dia inteiro completamente livre pela frente... lixa-me sempre os planos.

Sempre que tenho muito tempo... não faço absolutamente nada!

março 04, 2008