sábado, 23 de novembro de 2013
AS CIDADES INVISIVEIS DA ROCHA DO BARDO
|SUNSET/ POR DO SOL|
|THE CRYSTAL MOUNTAINS/ AS MONTANHAS DE CRISTAL|
|THE ABYSS/ O ABISMO|
|TEXTILES & MARKETS/TECIDOS E MERCADOS|
|THE GAP/ O CORTE|
|THE HEAVENS/ OS CEUS|
|THE CRYSTAL/ O CRISTAL|
|THE JOURNEY TO THE MOUNTAINS/ A JORNADA AS MONTANHAS|
|BY THE FULL MOON/ ILUMINADA PELA LUA CHEIA|
|HOME/ O LAR|
|THE STAIRCASE to the waters/ A ESCADARIA das aguas|
segunda-feira, 11 de novembro de 2013
In between, all this time, there was the city of Mbale.
And the market place.
The marketplace where Ana searched and found the best Calvin Klein shirts on earth for twenty cents. The best Liz Claiborne, best name this side of the valley. The best dried fish wholesale, best groundnut paste and sesame, best cloth. Dainty white hands touched the greenish silver of antelope home-made from Zambia, a tingling sensation, smooth fingers lingering over merikkani cloth of Zanzibar, maybe the yellow lions of Kenya touched on a coffee cup. Blue eyes delighted in the raised texture of gold trim surrounding cloth of indigo. Protection cloth, she was told, for the young girls who did not know "what to do with themselves". She was told, the best plastic colanders ever made from China. Sculptured airplanes out of tin, oil can into airplane lamp, the best she had seen engineered and thought out so far. Exquisite sense of gadgetry, the tiny, the large, wear ever forever in there for the flow of their lives.
domingo, 10 de novembro de 2013
|Lobisomen chegando/ Werewolf arriving|
|A Guerra das pipas/ The war of kites|
|O trem noturno/ The night train|
sábado, 9 de novembro de 2013
sexta-feira, 8 de novembro de 2013
He then filled an empty can of sardines with paraffin and placed it on top of the wooden base.
He lit a match and set the can of sardines filled with paraffin on fire.
On top of the fire, he balanced a tiny tin pot with his lunch.
On a rainy cool day, he was going to have a hot meal…
(I could not bring myself to take photos)
Um trabalhador da prefeitura, vestido de uniforme vermelho colocou uma base pequena redonda de madeira na calçada.
Encheu uma latinha vazia de sardinhas com parafina.
Riscou um fosforo e acendeu a chama.
Na chama equilibrou uma marmita pequena com seu almoço.
Num dia frio de chuva, ele ia comer comida quente.
(Sem fotos, pois nao tive nenhuma vontade de invadir.)
terça-feira, 5 de novembro de 2013
segunda-feira, 4 de novembro de 2013
Cannot go south, I am told,
or I will fall prey to the diseases, the choleras,
the mosquitoed dengues, the leeches,
the embedded dangers
the schizophrenic madnesses,
of my families from the south.
And I ask of you, what then?
If I stay in the north?
Where my words barely touch the edges of my meanings?
When will I win this daily raffle?
Lemmings and lemmings to the seas
of my changes?
When will the rain lullabye me?
When will the dirt, this dust, once again
bring me home?
many years ago