At the wheel…

  …of a Chevrolet on the road to Sintra, Through moonlight and dreams, on the deserted road, I drive alone, drive almost slowly, and it almost Seems to me, or I almost force myself to think it seems, That I’m going down another road, another dream, another world, That I’m going on without having left … More At the wheel…

I’d rather stop

This is not a good photo. I couldn’t get out of the car and attempt a proper photo, the letter box stands right by a traffic light and words on walls and urban equipments tend to vanish quickly, so you get them when you spot them. Pause and reflect on the [your / mine]  path  … More I’d rather stop

Why would you walk?

“But ballet itself – it’s important. Dance is important. It’s that language that everybody understands. It’s a powerful tool to open people’s minds. It’s some subconscious thing, a connection we all have. Kids dance before walking. It’s our truest nature of being. It’s true spirit.” He pauses. “And then, slowly and slowly, as we grow … More Why would you walk?

No turn

There is no other space, no other time. This moment is all. In this moment the whole existence converges, in this moment all is available. Osho, Zen: The Path of Paradox

It’s only human

Our century is so shallow, its desires scattered so widely, our knowledge so encyclopedic, that we are absolutely unable to focus our designs on any single object and hence, willy-nilly, we fragment all our works into trivia and charming toys. We have the marvellous gift of making everything insignificant. Nikolai Gogol (1809 – 1852) Shallow

When he left

Mr. Alexandre used to work here, from 1962 until he died in 2016. From the street, looking through the window, it doesn’t look like this place is abandoned. He might come back. Someone might come back for their bespoke suit. If you read Portuguese, please head to Blog dos Alfaiates, Mr. Alexandre’s story is there along with … More When he left


I hate how I don’t feel real enough unless people are watching. Chuck Palahniuk, Invisible Monsters

Not a place

Perhaps home is not a place but simply an irrevocable condition.  James Baldwin Metropolitan Museum of Art, a night in January


AUTORRETRATO      Espáduas brancas palpitantes: asas no exílio dum corpo. Os braços calhas cintilantes para o comboio da alma. E os olhos emigrantes no navio da pálpebra encalhado em renúncia ou cobardia. Por vezes fêmea . Por vezes monja. Conforme a noite. Conforme o dia. Molusco. Esponja embebida num filtro de magia. Aranha de ouro … More Natália

One too many

Eyes blinded by the fog of things cannot see truth. Ears deafened by the din of things cannot hear truth. Brains bewildered by the whirl of things cannot think truth. Hearts deadened by the weight of things cannot feel truth. Throats choked by the dust of things cannot speak truth. Harold Bell Wright, The Uncrowned … More One too many