Fórum das idéias e textos que surgem na minha cabeça em momentos variados. Textos de todos os tipos que traduzem a minha natureza de escritor à linguagem visual.
EU SOU
idéias em construção
pensamentos fugidios
curiosidade encarnada
vontade delirante
devoção convicta
ironia escancarada
extravagância desmedida
loucura contida
felicidade maravilhada
sensibilidade voraz
comunicador por excelência
segunda-feira, outubro 06, 2003 VeloCity
O cheiro de gasolina, o ulular dos motores no espaço fechado e a sensação de desamparo apesar da proximidade (os carros passam muito perto, mas não têm como parar) compõem uma espécie de poema urbano concreto, olfativo, afetivo e sonoro. - Contardo Calligaris 15:21
domingo, outubro 05, 2003 Red for your blues
—Will you bring me flowers?
—What flowers do you want?
—Anything red for my blues.
—Red? Like fire?
—Yes. Like fire and love.
—Fine.
—Wait.
—What is it?
—You're the bluest boy I've ever seen.
—What do you mean?
—Indigo blue, my little indigo boy.
—Am I really?
—Sparkling blue eyes.
—I'll bring you the flowers you wanted.
—Please, red for my blues.
—Red like fire for your blues.
—I can be what you want me to be.
—Red for your blues.
—My little indigo boy. So blue.
—So kiss me.
—Then I'll kiss you.
—Red for your blues.
—Velvet passion for my indigo heart.
—So red for your blues.
—And then I'll kiss you.
—I won't forget the flowers.
—I won't forget to love you.
—Will it make me happy?
—I can be what you want me to be.
—Red for your blues.
—What do you want me to be?
—I want you to be like the flowers.
—Roses?
—I want you to be red for my blues. My blueness.
—You're the bluest boy I've ever seen.
—So be red for this blue.
—Bring me my flowers.
—It's a deal.
And they burned.
Mrs Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself. - Virginia Woolf 10:49
