Review on the videos of the blog " Videowashere"

Mogwai Versus Nosferatu (Part 01)
Mogwai Versus Nosferatu (Part 02)
Mogwai Versus Nosferatu (Part 03)

These videos are great and why do I see greatness on them?
Mogwai's music is perfect for this music with all its crescendos and the silence beneath the guitars sometimes.
It's my favourite band; but if Murnau was alive he would be proud of these videos; in here we see a mix of classic with improvisation and it works, doesn't it?

http://videowashere.blogspot.com/2007/05/mogwai-livela-route-du-rock-2001.html

One of my favourite songs of Mogwai and alive with great sound.
In here, we found everything:
Dreams
Nightmares
Chaos
Order
Balance
The instruments are merely a tool to sensations that exist on our subconscious.

http://videowashere.blogspot.com/2007/05/mogwai-livela-route-du-rock-2001.html rights make 1 wrong

Another entrance into pure balance,:
we see here all in sync.
The flute as a bird; the chords of the cellos as a crying and the guitars lamenting thoughts expressed without words.
A powerful song that I think's one of the greatest of all times.

MOGWAI - Travel Is Dangerous

That's what I like on Mogwai also; they transport us into the realms of dreams and faeries, while giving us with the titles of their songs, the basic notions of life.
They also become interested on animation; like a way of telling our inner child that everything's connected:
Books; Music, Animation, Photographs, paintings, Movies.

But above it all:

Dreams.

MOGWAI - Stanley Kubrick

This song is an homage to the great Kubrick.
A calm song to mark the difference between the two personalities that he had:
Calm and frenzy.
catching a glimpse of the video, it transports us into a probable Kubrick's childhood with those old movies that he (and myself of course) adored.

MOGWAI - Friend Of The Night

Another great song and video by Mogwai.
The title tells everything (the words aren't needed)
I love one more time the bridge made from music to animation.

The Pogues

The Pogues - Summer In Siam

This one's a classic from The Pogues (a beautiful video) with the peculiar atmosphere that the city (siam) has.
An homage also to a city that suffered a lot on the vietnam war.
Shane mcgowan voice and lyrics transport us into a sweet melancholy.
It isn't Hiroshima; but is also a city that passed a lot, because of our fellow americans.

Tindersticks

Tindersticks - Been loving you too long.
Tiny tears
Beautiful video that describes the lyric and the melancholic voice of Stuart Staples (who sings a little bit similar to our portuguese "Fado")
Tindersticks - Dying Slowly
Great.
Tindersticks opened here a bridge with animation. The video; the music and the lyrics are in total sync.
Tindersticks / Traveling Light

Everybody are travelling light on this era; but Tindersticks, tell us to slow a bit and relax, a great song full of raw.
Once again I notice here the bridge of music with photography.

Tom Waits

Tom Waits - Temptation

The man who knows it all, that puts us all on a constant surprise with lyrics that talk about simple but complex things.
His voice changes a lot with all the whiskey that he drinks and all the fags that he smokes, but who cares?
He tells us everything that we must know.

Peter Murphy

Peter Murphy - Final Solution
Peter Murphy interview
Peter Murphy - Final Solution
Peter Murphy Cuts You Up
Peter Murphy - Hit Song
Peter Murphy - All Night Long

I don't like to talk much about Peter; because everybody knows that he gave us everything and all we ever got was cold (back on the days of Bauhaus)
The videos are great, the songs and the lyrics are full of energy.
Some of them are melancholic, some of them a shout from his inner self.

Nick Cave

Nick Cave God Is In The House
nick cave and the bad seeds wings of desire
Red Right Hand
Nick Cave - Straight to you
Nick Cave- into my arms

Nick's always right; he can put desire into words, chaos and order unified.
Lyrics that makes us wonder how simplicity's and who's the person who can be indifferent with:
Into my arms (the lyric and the video)
Straight to you ( the same thing)
or his debut on the fabulous movie " The wings of desire"?

Bowie

David Bowie - Changes - 1976 Rehearsal
On the 70's bowie knew that the world was changing minute by minute and was almost a visionary, because the lyric tells us what happened on the 90's and what's happenning on the 21st Century.
Rock'n roll Suicide - Live in Japan
Was he a Rock and roll suicide?
Sure he was; he created and killed all these characters:
Major Tom
Ziggy Stardust
Alladin Sane
The thin white duke
and then on the album "Outside" created several and killed them on that album.
David Bowie - Ziggy Stardust

Another character that he created.
At that time people began to wonder:
- Who's Ziggy?
- Who's Bowie?
Has he read Fernando Pessoa?
I'm positively sure that he did.
David Bowie - China Girl
A song about love, betrayal and the bridge between ocident and orient ( so common today).
The video's beautiful.
David Bowie - Let's Dance
His hitsong; I can provide here some info:
-Do you remember a story from Hans Christian Andersen; where a girl only danced with her red shoes that were made of magic?
Under Pressure - Bowie and Lennox
Queen and David Bowie - Under Pressure
In here, we see Bowie doing what he wanted more, putting people under pressure:-)
No, the main theme here's the stress and the rush of our lives.
Love Annie's voice also.
Absolute Beginners - David Bowie
A song for the beginners on the art of love (what a beautiful song and a beautiful video)
David Bowie - Jump They Say
Dedicated to his brother, who literally jumped (he was schizofrenic).
I think that memories were launched from Bowie's heart and also a cry for help to understand, people that need help with this terrible disease.
David Bowie - Life On Mars (Live)
A beautiful song; a powerful video (he was always on other planets; was he tired of ours?)
Space Oddity David Bowie
The beginning of Major Tom's Era and the spacial voyages that Bowie did.
The birth of Major Tom (few years before, the man had landed on the moon)

David Bowie Ashes to Ashes So; Major Tom was dead by this time or disappeared (who knows), bowie on a great concert that put everybody enthusiastic with his mimic, his songs and his powerful voice on Sound and Vision Tour. Who else to talk wisely about life on other planets and people missing in space or dying in it, with a contemporary vision that can be found here on the International Network?

Bauhaus

Bauhaus - In The Flat Field
It's boring doing nothing (or so Peter Murphy said that on that time)
A great concert, where we've everything: Theater; mimic, German expressionism, music and literature.
Great song indeed.
Bauhaus - Dark Entries
The title says it all; not gothic, but releasing our Mr Hyde on the streets or on the green.
Bauhaus - Bela Lugosi's Dead
This video was taken from "The hunger" by Tony Scott, where Bowie appears as a vampire that's dying.
Their first recorded song and dedicated to the man who didn't need to speak english very well or to bite necks, while seeing its blood, sensuality was on lugosi's dracula and that was what counted for Bauhaus.

Sisters of Mercy

The Sisters of Mercy -- Lucretia, My Reflection The Sisters of Mercy -- Lucretia, My Reflection

Andrew giving us another bridge, music with historical facts based on Lucretia Borgia.
Was her, his reflection?
A great voice, a video that transports us into the past and the present.

Joy Division

Shadowplay by Joy Division, Reanimated
Loved this video, the poet that appeared in life immortalized.
-Why haven't their friends helped him, he was begging for help.
tribute to joy division
joy division decades tribute
JOY DIVISION ceremony tribute video
Reservoir Dogs
Four videos that I loved with tributes to a man that was on pills today for sure; this world had plenty of chaos for him.
Joy Division - Day of the Lords (live)
Joy Division - Dead Souls (live)
Ian Curtis live; his voice was a normal voice, but "where have they been?"
Joy Division - Love will tear us apart
Problems with his wife or with his world; who knows?
Joy Division - Atmosphere
Fantastic tribute by corbjin, when Ian commited suicide.
Bridge with photography and the black and white telling us that there's a little bit of good and evil on us.
It must come from within us to make the proper balance in life.

Spacemen 3

Spacemen 3 - Revolution
Spacemen 3 - Hypnotized (Full Version)
Spacemen 3 - Suicide (Live), First Half
Spacemen 3 Interview - Sonic Boom and Jason Pierce...
Spiritualized - She Kissed Me
Spiritualized - Let It Flow
spiritualized - come together
Spiritualized-Ladies and Gentlemen We are Floating...
Spacemen 3 - I Love You
SPACEMEN 3 WALKING WITH JESUS


Jason Pierce leds us into worlds full with magic; influenced by the beatnik generation:
Kerouac; burroughs, ginsberg (another bridge with literature and science fiction)
Phillip K.Dick
While putting us on space; releasing ourselves from the pills, giving us freedom to live on our brains with music.
Important bands that made history with a new kind of music that people didn't understood (maybe them also) but loved immensely.

My Bloody Valentine

My Bloody Valentine - Sometimes - Lost in Translat...
My Bloody Valentine - Realise
Cigarette in your Bed - my bloody valentine
My Bloody Valentine, Only Shallow
My Bloody Valentine - Soon
My Bloody Valentine - Soon (live)
My bloody Valentine - Soft as snow

The band that put the concept of "shoegazing" (because of the guitar player being concentrated so much on the music that was always looking at his shoes)
I feel that dreams and reality are always on their songs and even Sofia Coppolla noticed that and asked Kevin Shields to do some songs for her movie " Lost in translation".
The videos give us also the sense of spirituality; dreams and reality.

Lost In Translation - Bob Harris sings More Than T...
lost in translation - charlotte sings karaoke

Great Karaoke (as they should be), people enjoying the songs while feelling them
Love the movie; sofia connected everything; photography, music, literature and the basic notions of life.
One of the best movies on this century.

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Siouxsie and The Banshees - Face To Face

A song that Tim Burton asked Siouxsie to do to his movie "Batman Returns"; Burton always loved Siouxsie and The Banshees and they made a great tribute to the batman movie and its main characters; Batman and Catwoman.
Face to face; no masks and no telling lies.
The video's a beauty.

the chain 2 - phil mulloy
Phil Mulloy - The sexlife of a chair
Phil Mulloy - The Sound of Music

Phil Mulloy

Now; animation by Phil Mulloy.
The man who told me to draw with my left hand and improve with the right to draw better.
The man who paid me a beer and traded one cigarette for two drawings from him and I talked and talked with him about London and he said to me:
" You know more about London than me and I'm from London." while laughing and laughing and me also.
Talked with him about jack in the green (a myth in England made by a portuguese long time ago)
He mixes everything; drama, comedy, horror on a singular style.
I would describe him as the "Lynch" of animation, a nice fellow that was a warrior (talked with me for 2 hours and resisted:-) )
Not the common artist (hope that he puts the credits on Jack in the green with my name as he promised on his next episode of "the christies" hahahahahaha )

Neil Gaiman 

Stardust Movie Trailer - De Niro.Pfeiffer
A powerful story of love written in comic book form passed to the big screen with De Niro and the great Michelle Pfeiffer.
The Day I Swapped My Dad for 2 Goldfish
'Mr. Punch' Trailer #2
Two movies that will be made by Neil Gaiman and Dave Mckean, based on their graphic novels.
Me And My Big Ideas
Dave Mckean - Sonnet 138
Coraline
Reason. - Dave MCKean
The Week Before - Dave McKean

It seems that comics are everywhere (one must have the ideas)
Neil gaiman and Dave mckean started making comics books; passed to animation and now to movies and literature (and yes; they do comic books also now)
Neil won everything that was possible to won on comic books (won even an Hugo award for best fantasy/science fiction story with a comic book from " The Sandman" with people like: Stephen King or Harlan Ellison in competition also with their novels)

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Dave Mckean illustrated everything; comic books; books from: Stephen king and Iain Sinclair (my favourite writer) cd's covers, commercials for Nike and Adidas and now made the beautiful movie "Mirrormask", his short movies are a delight for the eyes and soul.

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Tales From Vienna Woods (Stille Nacht III) by Quay...
Brothers Quay - Stille Nacht V - Dog Door
Are we still married? (Stille Nacht II) by Quay Br...
Brothers Quay -1985- The Epic of Gilgamesh

The memorable quay brothers who make animation never seen before.
They don't need words (whispers are sufficient) and they create bridges also,on their animations, if we look closely, we can see:
Man Ray (Photography)
Kafka (literature)
German Expressionism (Wiene; murnau and Lang)
Music (They made lots of videos to the band Tool)
Mythology (Gilgamesh)
Everything's linked, one must find its sources.

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TOOL--Right In Two
TooL - Right In Two / Brothers Quay - Street of Cr...

I love this band.
They make a new kind of music that enters on our brain like a tornado, that's inside of us, ready to be released or controlled and they also make the links and bridges to; animation and literature.

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Patti Smith horses

Love this song and video; the words appear and disappear, dreams, reality, freedom.
Everything's here.
Patti whispers; sighs, shouts.
Telling us that in spite of all; life's simple.

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Depeche Mode - One Caress
The lyric says it all
Depeche Mode - Insight
Life at its best with a huge spirituality.
Depeche Mode - Walking In My Shoes
Everybody must walk on other people's shoes from time to time.
Depeche Mode - In Your Room
Inner peace; inner love. The private sometimes must be public, sothat an idea appears.

Depeche Mode made the bridge with Corbjin on photography and with theater (on their tours) and they gained more appeal by linking all this.

Light out

Try to postpone watercolours that will appear on the surface of someone that won't remain quiet and silent.
Someone's looking at glasses choosing sugar on some unfulfilled powder that will become an inner spirit.
- Was willst du machen?
- Was hast du verstehen?
A pen's being filled on someone that tries its best effort to enter on other dominions, light's the source on which treasures are multiplied, becoming part of an endless void of wonder, the stars gaze meticulously at the sky in search of an umbrella's that's being left on the decay of boredom.
Another gulp of fresh water and the sanity's assassin's being put in dark dungeons.
Sillhouettes are being put aside and suddenly the laughter's something to be quietly provided.
Hats and cigarettes makes the sun and earth move towards infinity, smokes are being passed on, nurture's at stake, the pen moves quietly into the sweet sound of silence.
Your hand around my throat, girls are whispering softly into my ears.
Lost smiles endure the tenderness of something to behold in its dark atmosphere.
Rain's falling down and one doesn't know where to go.
Ink's passing by and the dangers are being put to shreds.
Seeing the inside, one can marvel at the outside.
Hair's soft and deranged. the strangeness appears when nobody's there.
I remember the empty words of quietude.
Being quiet and still isn't merely some spirit that won't endure.
Horses appear from nowhere.
An huge city appear out of the blue with lots of buildings moving from one place to another, the boats sink into the stillness of water that converge into tiny spaces of wonder.
Mirroring the city from above, the green embraces quietly the sea on a silent whisper of nothingness, the treasure's at stake, when the lost men arrive at shore.
Wood's screaming loudly, when all the particles remain closed on themselves.
Black and white scenarios give endless ways towards the streets that pave the earth on a similar way.
The smile's being on a transparent way of crowds that aren't special at all.
The flute passes on a mournful journey that will appear on someone else's ribbons, stones mixed with ancient clouds of whispers to come.
Palaces are being built and no one knows what for.
Cries on a quiet morning are something to rely on and to escape into unshattered lands.
A child's speaking loud as the emptyness and tiredness of a mother is something to harbour on.
Pianos throughout the sky; soft on clouds that will rise and rise at a colourful event.

River ashore

Floating upon the endless river; one ventures into the wild gaze of an endless atmosphere.
A child's running in circles; where to go, when there isn't an answer to the question that won't become mute towards ancient clouds of wisdom:
- One more for the road.
Whispers silently the old man
On an endless parade of freaky and absolute wisdom, the atmosphere's strange as a lost anag ram of words:
- Where to?
Asks the little child
- I don't know the tricky and risky ways of quiet slumber.
Whispers the sailor
A man in a trenchcoat does his job endlessly; he thinks on some quiet song that won't be silenced.
Lost buses appear out of nowhere; trying to catch a train, one falls into a devious trap.
The glass is filled with water and ice, it trembles into some vast dominion.
A baby's asleep from the quiet solitude of lost bricks; grass everywhere on nurtured beings without thoughts.
The turtle's an ancient wisdom of rattlesnakes on the desert, linking strange visions of a forgotten lore of past, present and future.
Echoes are still on the remains of logic; being bored forever on an empty space, the huge rabbit appears out of nowhere, being passed from time to time into secret oblivion.
The passages are what they seem to provide, sand's everywhere, the sea's a treasure to be filled into a current mix of oxygen on silent sounds that appear out of nowhere.
The mute noises are being put on a caressed ocean of tears, someone's lurking over windows that won't close, perception's long gone.
The eyes can't be the mirror of the soul, since the ancient tradition of lost particles on the air seems like a transition to other worlds of slumber.
The pillow's wide awake; when searching for the holy grail that won't become a simple task of putting words into phrases, words aren't merely words, they are worlds that seem to crash and collide into some empty rocks of void.
The paper's filled with inner spirit.
The seagulls are passing by, the wind's a curious gaze towards an academic voice of wonders that won't be spoiled.
Chairs are chanelling energy and moving along with current landscapes of joyfullness, the bread's filled with butter.
The strange cacophony of millions of stars that disappear into an empty phrase of treasures on a leafless paper of knowledge.
- Books and books, what for?
The fox continues to mutter endlessly
Searching for the river on the streets of ancient rocks, the air's soft, the rain appears from nowhere, the pen's becoming slave of the man.
- Enter into other ideas.
- Venture into the green.
- Carry on with your busyness.
Cries the little child to the old man.
Hunger and famine's a strange parallel of colours that aren't there, dressing the endless atmosphere of soft stairs that won't lead to nowhere, the little vermin tries to escape into another realm of being, into somewhere and everywhere.
Merely words that won't flee into worlds.
Black and yellow as a strange void of emptyness, hapyness comes and goes, the collision of stars, the world seems like simple cigarettes that won't be more than a tender and soft whisper on a tender smile.

Olhos esbranquiçados

No meio de uma formação contínua e ascendente; os olhos vão sendo somente pequenos atributos meritórios de chamas em ebulição.
O prazer hediondo e nefasto de corpos etéreos vai sendo continuadamente diluído num sem fim de ideias latentes e subjacentes.
A mesa está vazia num qualquer fundo e mundo meritório; encontra-se novamente plena nos seus interiores ópticos, a atenção desmembrada vai-se tornando num objecto transitório.
O burburinho é constante; a forma intermitente de desleixo cognitivo vai-se apresentando fugaz e ocular.
Os comprimidos são somente uma forma de fugir para outro hemisfério; a textura labial é formada por identidades e entidades discretas.
A tinta vai percorrendo todo o seu caminho interminável de formas constantes.
Os olhos vão absorvendo o tom esbranquiçado em contextos latentes; alguém vai falando francês com uma convicção por demais evidente.
A música vai sendo estilhaçada para toda uma eternidade; os ouvidos vão servindo de percursor para um conjunto alheado de elementos em frenesim.
O sol e a chuva vão fazendo a sua aparição fugaz e intermitente, continuam a escutar-se as batidas coerentes e consequentes de guitarras em ebulição e uma flauta a ser demovida do seu propósito inédito.
A serenidade é uma consequência de estratégias a despontar num antro cheio de mistérios; o som abafado vai-se tornando cada vez mais silencioso e verossímil entre a flauta que segue o seu caminho triunfal e nefasto, poderiamos deambular num qualquer esquema de autocarros em marcha.
O expoente máximo de mentes dilaceradas vai continuando o seu propósito residual de fumo pouco concreto e demasiadamente intermitente.
A liberdade continua a ser o expoente máximo de encruzilhadas a serem recortadas e favorecidas; várias faces vão sendo descobertas num marulhar de sensações que vão seguindo o seu trajecto idílico, o jogo poderia começar sem os seus principais intervenientes.
Os bolos vão sendo discretamente polvilhados com farinha e ovos; os transístores vão sendo devidamente infrigidos numa margem fluvial.
O Tamisa serve de ponte introspectiva ao constante desvario que vai sendo linearmente envolto num anexo desprovido de causas e consequências; através das suas ruas amplas e escorregadias, os pretextos insondáveis vão sendo devidamente atados.
Um homem de camisola encarnada vai fazendo a sua entrada triunfal; de repente, vai ecoando uma aura espiritual no ar que vai circundando todos os deveres patrióticos, ao escutar atentamente todas as fragrâncias que vão sendo respiradas e acaraciadas, a mistura de ideias e consequente fusão de corpo e alma, vai sendo o mote para um sorriso jovial e espiritual.
Os dedos vão pousando no piano como se de pequenas carícias se tratassem, todo o envolvimento estrutural é um constante prazer visual e ao mesmo tempo, quase hipnótico.
Entramos no carrossel da vida; sem um grito a ser transcrito, a descrição é bem mais que uma nuance estelar, mais um trago a ser consumido devagar, devagarinho, a suavidade é sempre um constante labor arrendado e aveludado.
Um velho vai-se manifestando para com os alicerces da humanidade.
Um homem de raça negra, vai dialogando constantemente ao telefone.
Os enigmas vão sendo rarefeitos de trajectos insondáveis; as noticias que vão aparecendo nos Media fazem-nos transitar para outros mundos.
O ritmo começa a entrar de uma forma constante e variável; mais uma vez as guitarras vão entrando de crescendo em crescendo, sem qualquer desvio estrutural.
As curiosas sapatilhas vão servindo o seu trajecto peculiar e introspectivo, o carvão está em marcha contínua, de repente, escutam-se músicas a serem literalmente entoadas numa qualquer descarga psicológica, mais uma vez vão-se escutando ondas em perfeita transição desviante, surgem-nos as palavras em perfeito estado bruto:
- Anda lá; MORRE JOVEM.
Os seus diminutivos vão servindo um qualquer propósito insondável; a transição de um cigarro vai sendo passada entre dedos exigentes, as raparigas vão entoando pequenos cânticos amorfos e desenvoltos.
O trabalho seco é por demais evidente; o silêncio impera num gelo absolutamente glacial.
O desmoronar de um tijolo é um constante rodopio de palavras incessantes e gritos estridentes, a pausa manifesta-se enclausurada nos instrumentos variados:
- Mãos á volta do pescoço?
O divino marquês vai sendo um artíficio deslumbrante quando o tom torna-se puro.
A idade é somente é somente um conceito a ser libertado; todavia a persistência da frase, torna-se um cadeado que vai sendo devidamente formado, dão-se informações inócuas de trajectos a serem percorridos.
Os olhos permanecem esbugalhados e imperceptiveis, toda a permissividade oculta é desfeita em pequenos fios de ligação, toda uma desenvoltura sintomática vai-se tornando perceptível nesses olhos que permanecem afoitos no vento, como se de pequenas pétalas se tratassem.
Uma luta olho a olho vai sendo descortinada, num assombro multicultural; poderíamos ir de encontro ao céu, mas não podemos fazer a devida homenagem a Ícaro.
As velhas vozes são demasiado frequentes para se tornarem esféricas; perder a mente é um futuro aparentemente estéril, as consequências são demasiado puras para poder determinar a frieza do acto em si, calças vermelhas são um projector de combinação ilusória, a semelhança de um simples objecto é demasiado verdadeira para poder testemunhar as ocorrências diárias, todas as diversas incidências são um qualquer tranformismo incipiente, os sorrissos vão denotando o bem estar apalavrado e consequentemente manipulado:
- Quais as visões ensaístas que produzem ideias coerentes e que são ao mesmo tempo multiplicadoras de conceitos vagos e estruturais?
- Pois; o ponto de partida foi o mesmo.
A procura da juventude é deveras evidente quando esta nos persegue nos seus olhos chagados.
O tom esbranquiçado vai sendo pautado de uma forma descontinuada; fugazes lampejos vão-nos remetendo para as pontes perceptivas, poderiamos tentar abrir as cortinas para poder apagar todas as exigências que estão envolvidas em actos despovoados de um qualquer nexo ilusório.
Os olhos continuam numa observação intermitente; o entendimento nunca pode ser assumido como um dado concreto ou obsoleto, perante montanhas gigantescas, o homem vai fazendo a sua minuciosa observação de elementos a serem transpostos para uma cavidade memorial, as pálpebras vão-se unindo, as pestanas vão-se mantendo demasiado abertas, as sobrancelhas estão demasiado juntas para se tornarem num permanente vácuo de emoções e sensações.
A tampa vai sendo demasiado flexível e no entanto, vai-se agigantando num contexto aparente e desconexo.

Caneta

Permanece envolta num qualquer sentido oposto; a intuição é demasiadamente afável.
Através da tinta que vai escorrendo em demasia; somos confrontados com sonhos envoltos em almofadas desmembradas.

Maré ensombrada

No meio de sons entrecortantes; as incidências diárias vão sendo continuadamente aglutinadas.
A felicidade é demasiadamente englobada em contextos de verossimilhanças que vão sendo cortadas numa fina membrana de papel a ser dilacerado.
Escutam-se guitarras a tornarem-se demasiamente incidentes.
A maré vai sendo despojada de um qualquer artefacto mediático; as sombras vão servindo estruturas de uma forma cordial e intermitente, as janelas vão sendo descritas e polvilhadas num qualquer desleixo inconsequente.
Os mitos urbanos vão sendo devidamente encadeados; escutam-se telefones a tocar incessantemente e vozes a marcarem encontros pontuais.
Todas as sonoridades que pausadamente nos transmitiam sentimentos texturais vão sendo delimitados de crescendo em crescendo.
O tempo vai passando fugazmente; as vozes vão sendo cruzadas num diálogo simbiótico.
As conversas vão sendo atiradas para um vácuo desligado.
Os sons que permanecem caóticos e desmembrados; vão surgindo num eco com uma precisão acutilante e deslumbrante.
Brigadeiros surgem num escoamento de estrelas mirabolantes.
O fumo surge continuadamente ESBATIDO........

The story of a fag

At its current status; while trying to postpone a new vehicle, other worlds must be filled with words.
The paper does its job permanently in a quiet whisper of silent slumber; on and on, the treasure's at stake.
When put to lips; it smiles like a wanderer on the desert.
Lost smoke with plenty of apples and onions.
FEUER. ROT FEUER IM HIMMEL.
Cells are once again on a tremendous quest for oxygen.
Les oiseaux doivent parler et chanter sans être écoute.
The fag's close to inner circles of lost oblivion; teeth sink into it, but the smile's always at stake.
Wood's everywhere being burnt; the synthesis is a coerent form of being played like a football game.
Smoke upon smoke; barrels are always at the epicenter of malignant smoke.
Red; yellow, white, journey that won't end towards an astonishing act of stars on the horizon.
Paper collects the seeds to inner spirit; sponge's something to be regarded as a peculiar inuendo.
Flames upon flames of lost smoke's spoiled at the vastness of the sky.
A cup of coffee's making the silent transition from one place to another.
Replace the echo with something to behold.
Parler; chanter, manger, fermer er sans aucune doute, etre un simple cigarette que n'exist pas.
L'argent attend toujours pour un simple devoir et pouvoir de reflêchir sans être stopé, mais quoi faire quand le cigarette est pas lá?
Les acheter?
Les (re)trouver?
Questions s'imposent d'une faison merveileuse.
Listening to a fag scream is something to be regarded as a silent whisper.
One can put pens into inner mouths.
- Mais; de quoi parle ce mec?
- Je n'entends rien.
- Écrire est parler sans être aveugle.
- Le savoir faire est une question seulement heureux.
Deux mecs parlent sans écouter sa propre voix.
Le chat est toujours lá; dans son lit a rêver.
The ashes circle the paper, while remaining unique and enthusiastic.
- Mais de quoi PARLER?
- Á qui ÉCOUTER?
La fleuve est toujours lá dans la mer; le sel est seulement ce que nous avons dans les yeux, pour avoir des questions que sont une caracteristique ilusoire.
Entrer dans beaucoup des questions sont des vraies coups.
Vivre sans écouter des illusions que nous ramenent dans les casquets que nous devons faire ensemble.
- Mais pourquoi être dans un cubicle?
The fag's questioning itself towards eternity..

Insignias mascaradas

Uma rapariga vai-se manifestando fielmente para com os seus pares; os seus olhos tentam irradiar felicidade, mas as cortinas vão sendo cada vez mais um reflexo da sua alma.
As suas sobrancelhas tremem; o seu sorriso é magnifico, ela vai-se servindo de guardanapos numa simbiose estrutural.
Ela é magra e alta; vai demonstrando ao mesmo tempo a sua beleza através de pequenos sorrisos.
O seu tom demasiadamente secreto, faz com que ela consiga os seus objectivos: Passar uma imagem bela e desprovida de acessórios.
Ela adora sentir a magia no ar e voar na direcção de outros mundos ou sonhos.
A responsabilidade é o seu lema; mas necessita urgentemente de uma fuga.
Os seus cabelos vão sendo continuadamente ajeitados com poucos maneirismos.
No interior de um espaço comum a todo o público; ela distribui energia e felicidade a rodos.
Subitamente; aparece um rapaz desleixado que vai sorrindo calmamente, ele é alto e magro também, vai desfolhando folhas e folhas sem cessar, apesar de manter-se atento a todos os pormenores que rodeiam esse espaço mitíco.
Diversas personalidades vão passando por lá; gente de todo o tipo, hipócritas, falsos e incoerentes, aparecem ainda vultos sombrios que tentam obter algo mais da rapariga que não se apercebe disso, os olhares famintos destes lobos em pele de cordeiro, são opacos e a fragilidade da rapariga faz com que a sua percepção não seja a mais adequada, mas de uma forma bastante inteligente vai-se divertindo e gozando com as constantes verossimilhanças que estes lhe vão oferecendo.
Letras vão sendo escritas aqui e ali; a sensibilidade vai-se tornando cada vez mais gigantesca.
Percorrendo os mais variadissimos livros, dos mais diversos temas, o rapaz vai tentando fazer a junção de todos estes mundos que ele vê com os seus próprios olhos. Por vezes; acende um cigarro e continua na sua busca desenfreada por atenção, simultaneamente vai perscrutando de uma forma bastante dolente, todos os olhares que vão perseguindo objectos díspares envoltos numa qualquer nomenclatura.
As tentativas fugazes de aglutinar tudo ao mesmo tempo, faz com que todos os minutos sejam diluidos numa simples hora.
Vai-se desenrolando a conversa entre ambos:
- Como anda a tua vida?
Pergunta a rapariga.
- Penso que todos os sinais de cores vão sendo incaracteristicos.
Vai balbuciando o rapaz.
- As proveniências do chá, são deveras dispersas, notamos num escape, a calma vai imperando, mas Sake é extremamente reconfortante.
Continua o rapaz a balbuciar palavras interiormente.
- Como te entendo.
Vai dizendo extasiada a rapariga.
Num mero segundo; despedem-se até uma qualquer próxima vez.
A mesa vai-se tornando cambaleante devido á escrita cruzada que se vai desmultiplicando dia após dia, hora após hora.
Mais uma vez as recordações de um jogo de sombras vao sendo um entusiasmo individualista.
As conversas são demasiado curtas e intransigentes entre os dois, mas a alegria vai imperando em cada novo motivo que vai sendo descortinado.
No final de o dia de ambos; vão pensando num novo amanhã e ao acordarem, sabem que apesar do tédio vão alegremente encontrando uma constante inércia aparente, onde os objectivos de cada um são imprevisivéis, afastam-se continuadamente num sitio enclausurado e encontram a alegria de viver e da própria noção de vida que os dois detém...

Nights

How many days with this irresistible look?
How many years to become imortal?
I'm pretty as a flower...
What are those four wolves doing here?
What do I see in the mirror?
Who do I see there?

First wolf: I'm your past. I'm you present. I'll be your future.

Second wolf: I'm what you are now.

Third wolf: Don't you love me?

Fourth wolf: I'm more than a cover of a magazine... LOOK AT ME and surrender to my fangs.