cidades paisagens ocupadas pela tristeza:

já não as posso ver com os teus olhos

...

heiner müller, 'o anjo do desespero'

Mother and Daugther (a minha 56ª foto no Fineart)

I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.

Whatever I see, I swallow immediately.

Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike

I am not cruel, only truthful —

The eye of a little god, four-cornered.

Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.

It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long

I think it is a part of my heart. But it flickers.

Faces and darkness separate us over and over.

Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me.

Searching my reaches for what she really is.

Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.

I see her back, and reflect it faithfully

She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.

I am important to her. She comes and goes.

Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.

In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman

Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.

Sylvia Plath

p.s. quanto mais me olho, mais te reconheço...

tocava-te e reconhecia-me.afinal não existia diferença entre o meu corpo e o seu reflexo.

chamaram a esta coincidência loucura

(...)

al berto

A Despedida

Não saberei nunca

dizer adeus

Afinal, 

só os mortos sabem morrer

(...)

Mia Couto

Father ( A minha 55ª foto no Fineart)

...e como um adolescente

tropeço de ternura

por ti.

Alexandre O´Neill

Auto-Retrato III (A minha 54ª foto no fineart)

My body is a cage ( a minha 53ª foto no Fineart