És a minha peixeavião

Voas no meu mar

Carnival

"I sing to the sun in the sky

  I sing to the sun raised high

  Carnival dancer,  magical time of youth"

A paisagem envolvente

Primeiro banho do ano

Apresentando a vigorosa

Forget the robots - There's too Many Dicks on the Dance Floor

Cortesia de Michel Gondry

reactable: basic demo #1

This is awesome. I want one.

Grey - Again

"squint your eyes and look closer
I'm not between you and your ambition
I am a poster Man with no poster
I am thirty-two flavors and then some
And I'm beyond your peripheral vision
So you might want to turn your head
Cause someday you might find you're starving
and eating all of the words you said"

this one is on us

and I am one of us

Tokyo-Extrait n°3

Heads up para o novo filme de Bong Joon-ho, Leos Carax e Michel Gondry

Tokyo!

Banzai

Grey (tríptico)

"the sky is grey, the sand is grey, and the ocean is grey. i feel right at

home in this stunning monochrome, alone in my way. i smoke and i drink and

every time i blink i have a tiny dream. but as bad as i am i'm proud of the

fact that i'm worse than i seem. what kind of paradise am i looking for? i've

got everything i want and still i want more. maybe some tiny shiny thing will

wash up on the shore. you walk through my walls like a ghost on tv. 

 and what can i say but i'm wired this way and you're wired to me, and

what can i do but wallow in you unintentionally? what kind of paradise am i

looking for? i've got everything i want and still i want more. maybe some tiny

shiny key will wash up on the shore. regretfully, i guess i've got three

simple things to say. why me? why this now? why this way? overtone's ringing,

undertow's pulling away under a sky that is grey on sand that is grey by an

ocean that's grey. what kind of paradise am i looking for? i've got everything

i want and still i want more. maybe some tiny shiny key will wash up on the

shore."

Ani diFranco, Grey 

O ceu é cinzento, a areia é cinzenta, e o oceano é cinzento; no entanto percorro este areal em direcção ao sol que não está. Os meus pés descalços não sentem frio, não sentem a textura da areia, as pegadas pelo mar apagadas. A chuva realmente não me molha. Quedo-me imóvel à beira mar, deixo as bolhas de ar que o mar traz brincarem, rebentarem a meus pés. Imóvel e a brisa marítima passa por mim, invisível. Tardo um instante, tardo apenas um momento. O grasnar ácido das gaivotas perde-se no fundo, (como o fumo do cigarro), um sino a ressoar. Ao longe, ligeiramente à direita os barcos de cores garridas mantêm-se à tona da água, linha que separa dos mistérios líquidos e do som grave das profundezas. Quantos tesouros brilhantes este mar abraça e quantos deles darão à costa? Quedo-me imóvel à beira mar, um momento, apenas um instante.