Omnes una manet nox

As I followed the less traveled road I reached a great old mansion. I knocked at the gate of lost time, nobody answered. I knocked a second time and kept knocking again and again. No response. No sounds. The house of lost time has ivy covering half of it, and ashes of a vanished past laying over the rest. Is a house where no body lives, and I kept rattling and calling, calling just to feel the pain of not being heard. Simply a lonely beat. The echo returns my urges to half-open these ice palaces of mine own. And in the end, night and day are mingled and confused by my hope, hope of waiting for the knocking to produce an echo or a reply…

The lost time certainly does not exist. Is just an empty condemned house…





"Illusion is the first of all pleasures." - Oscar Wilde





Listening to "Skeletons" - Yeah Yeah Yeahs

Fabas indulcet fames

It started to thrill me every time I begun speaking about friends. Must be age, people say that as years pass by we get more sentimental, or a constant feeling of movement, as if life was in a eternal shape shifting mode for me. But the fact is: when I think about my personal achievements and valuable belongs, friends are on equal footing with my family. And when I hear people saying that friend, real friends, we have no more than two or three, I can proudly hit my chest and say that I have way more than two or three. They are a bunch. It is not my privilege, anyone could have as many friends, but who is willing to commit? Who is willing to be engaged? People often say that John Doe is my friend, or Marie is my friend. Lie. You know them. They are people that we greeted on the street, talked quickly at a party, and we may even hear something about them, but friends? Not even close. Some actually were, but not anymore due to lack of care from both parties. Friendship is way more than just mere empathy, is a constant harvest, dedication and an eternal process of commitment. It takes time and willingness. And its most important feature is that the love involve do not need, or should not need, any reason. People often talk or commingle in Birthdays, Christmas or to ask for favors. There are always hidden motives behind it. And is that exactly paradox that can show us the factual difference between a casual and a true friend, just take the reason of the scene. I don’t need a reason. Just to miss that particular person. And, by being together, fell treated well. Hard to exemplify that feeling of being treated well. If you are in the presence of true friendship you don’t even need to put anything into words, the companion and the walk, side by side, in silence are sufficient. No need to constant praise each other, you may even pick on the other from time to time, gently. Also no need for endless demonstration of affection, and harsh truths can be said, sometimes they are needed. But the bottom line is that there is something sublime in the air between two friends. Perhaps respect is the corner stone. Affection, indeed required. Complicity? No, something greater. Tuning? No, I think is love. Only by loving you will be able to trust another person with your own personal hell. And also not to envy the battles won by the other side. For love you can share, lend, commingle and enjoy your time, you are honest in your answers, take care not to offend, embrace causes that are not yours, go into adventures, divide experiences and accept some disappearances, but reach out when that disappearance is exaggerated. All of this is dealing with friendship. If a friend like this comes into your life, do not let him go away. However, generally, people do not just let it slip from their fingers, as they contribute so they can evaporate. They ignore the mechanisms of maintenance. People think that friendship is something done, that its nature is to be constant, and we do not have to give it a helping hand. That sentiment continues up until the day that they open their little hands and are not able to count even two friends. And they start arguing that loneliness is a symptom of the modern days, so full of emergency, so individualistic. No. Loneliness is just a symptom of our negligence.





"Friendship is a single soul dwelling in two bodies." - Aristotle




Listening to Hoodoo Gurus - "Come Anytime"

Amat victoria curam

Maybe the world is not small after all, not even life is a consummated act. I want to invent my own kind of sin and end my good life with my particular medicine.

I need, once and for all, to loose your head. My mind needs to get rid of your senses.

Facing the every day, restructuring loose pieces, tying loose ends, that’s how we walk on, everything can be re-experienced, even death.

If I’d to believe in everything that I think of, I would be insane by now…





"A person needs a little madness, or else they never dare cut the rope and be free." - Nikos Kazantzakis





Listening to Porcupine Tree - "Collapse the Light into Earth"

Liberate te ex inferis

For those who lived a good and eternal love…
Two life’s that were instantly set apart,
By the awful misleads of the naïve heart,
Can never end the motion, like a deep light...
They are like little morning shinning stars,
Running through the infinity of the sky…
Now, in different but common directions,
Following their once routed path of happiness
But never losing each other eyes from sight…

It’s like keeping an inner secret from ourselves,
From a heart that just spread its wings and flew…
It is an old alive affection that was left in our veins,
From a heart that could not left its present owner…
It’s the constant certainty of an eternal presence…

From all life that was…
From all life that will…

It is longing for that good feeling,
Happy, Singing…





"A man's moral conscience is the curse he had to accept from the gods in order to gain from them the right to dream." - William Faulkner





Listening to Stan Getz - "When Your Lover Has Gone"

Mens agitat molem

Following one reverie that I always wonder about since my childhood, I came up with a quite interesting question on my demented mind: What if a person with “Capgras Delusion” entered an eternal house of mirrors? What would happen to that person’s sense of being? Would that person starts to ask himself about the veracity of himself? That question always hunted me… Like a demon in a world without candles…

“Capgras Delusion” is a rare mental illness, or disorder according to more political psychiatrists, in which the “haunted” one holds a deep belief that other people, or people that are around them are in a certain manner impostors, or more commonly have being replaced by an identical-looking impostors. In general cases, the syndrome is related to a paranoid nature where the delusional person truly believes in its dementia.

But returning to our main topic, image a poor haunted soul entering a place where even the best cognitive system would be putted at test. Someone that is doubtful of his closest friends is faced with its most inner self. As a grain of sand drops, the soul that once questioned the veracity of his own family now starts to look inside itself, and as Nietzsche would probably say: The abyss gazed back into him.

Suddenly all that was inside that needy soul gets released, like a inner Pandora box, all his villains, fears, sensations, emotions, memories, sins, knowledge and information converted into one and many person as his ego, id and superego were liberated to participate in his walk through the valley of mirrors. Now he is not alone anymore, there are several “me’s”, formed through the mix of his ego, id, superego in a never ending dance as they shape-shift from one reflection into the other as the haunted soul just stares through the looking glass trying to get familiar with all this “new” impostors that have being replaced, and now surrounds him.

As the person starts to walk deep inside the maze of mirrors delusion and beliefs regarding him are at clash. Every time he looks at a different mirror the reflection shows itself as a new “him”, or more properly said the reflection brings light into a new side of his personality that was up to now in a deep shadow. Every single stare at the mirrors is a window to his haunted soul, and so as the reflections are replaced by impostors, id, ego and superego take turns or commingle in a venture to expose its truly identity. As the journey continues, I can only imagine that questions regarding the “true me” start to pop into his head. As Id, ego and superego starts to make the mirrors become more and more alive and one starts to ask himself whether the reflection is the real self and the flesh and blood is an impostor. And in this exact moment is where the subject is faced with probably one of the most difficult choices during his walk into the self-awareness: “Who am I?”

Sartre would probably argue that deep down this appeal to a transcendental ego, or a true me, conceals a conscious flight from freedom. Our pour soul quest into knowing the veracity regarding himself is truly a search for authenticity, as it is the true virtue, in a society marked or defined by oppression and exploitation. The foundation remarking our subject quest, again, is the basic ambiguity of human reality that in the darkest hours “is what it is not” and “is not what it is”, an eternal motor of internal negation. Sartre would say that authenticity, or in our case the search for it, is fundamentally a condition where the human kind remains in a deep sleep state dreaming about the basic ambiguity that states that one is never identical with one’s current state but remains responsible for sustaining it. And in that way, the claim “who I am” would be tantamount to a manner of self-deception or bad faith as would all forms of determinism, since both instances involve lying to oneself regarding the fact that one’s nonself-coincidence and the concomitant responsibility for “choosing” to remain as one self.

Given the essential division of the human condition into factice and transcendence, bad faith or in-authenticity can assume two principal forms: one that denies the freedom or transcendence component and the other that ignores the fatidic dimension of every situation. Sartre talks as if any choice could be authentic so long as it is lived with a clear awareness of its contingency and responsibility. But his considered opinion excludes choices that oppress or consciously exploit others. In other words, authenticity is not entirely style; there is a general content and that content is freedom.

So as the “Capgras Holder” ventures into the jungle of self’s, realities, choices and thoughts translate as impostors reflected in every single mirror, deep down his journey into reveling its truly form turns into a quest for freedom. A quest for learning how to live with his choices. As certain as he is about a particular decision he becomes aware that no other alternative is possible, when a particular decision is made a new path is set. And since each path is full of possibilities, it seems that he cannot accept the responsibility for his choices, the responsibility of letting others paths go, or more likely of not exploring every single path possible.

And as a Salomonical curse, the feeling and memories of missed paths and opportunities will eternally hunt the “Capgras Holder” and all his inner self-reflections seen as impostors, but truly representing all dreams, emotions and sensations stored deep down at the holders id, ego and superego that were not properly followed…




"In all intellectual debates, both sides tend to be correct in what they affirm, and wrong in what they deny." - John Stuart Mill




Listening to "Dr Jackle" - Miles Davis feat. Milt Jackson Quintet

Saepe creat molles aspera spina rosas

There must be a place, space or time
Working like a kind of special bazaar
Where all our lost and broken dreams
Go to rest in a never-ending symphony…

Made of absences, draining out of excess
The dreams and fantasies are not straight.
Not fitting in straight lines or concepts
They are made and live in the extremes…

Opening each single bottle, yes, do it,
Let all that inner geniuses leave, free…
Courage must be wear all the times,
To tear, cut, burn, so we can start over…

I never wished or wanted to be always right
I sincerely prefer to be right and wrong
It’s always better to be complete, dual
And the first step is wanting to…





“In seed time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy.” William Blake





Listening to "The River" - Bruce Springsteen

Fiat Lux

There is a certain art in drawing with light, of searching for the perfect balance between light and shadow, brightness and darkness, a balance that just that exact second will reveal. This certain art presents a unique opportunity to play with the shape of objects, with the colors presented and reflected; and as said a unique opportunity to commingle with life, being able to shape shift these social construction call world memory. And this journey through the realm of light and shadow end up being a eternal quest for one’s soul, just as one starts to dig into their conscience, going into places where he do not know that were there, experiencing with unfamiliar events, facts, dreams, memories and feelings, one discover itself trapped in a realm where light and shadow are one, where much light represents a greater darkness to be discovered. While looking through that magic rectangle where the sensitive soul frames the beauty of the simplest day-to-day activity an entanglement of emotions and sensations take apart in that process. In that exact moment beauty is not just at the eyes of the beholder. Beauty now is part of a different spectrum of realities; beauty is now an amalgam between the figurative representations in the subconscious of the artist and the viewer. A construction forged inside two separated bodies, set apart by singular convictions, realities, knowledge, beliefs and experiences. A composition, so ephemeral, delicate and special, that only exists at the exact moment of the first gaze, vanishing like a mist in the hot morning as the viewer walks way from that particular angle, time and set of thoughts that were present in that exact second of the first gaze. Being able to imagine and experiment, only for a second, this sensation of being part of a production alien to my body and mind, that can only exist at the wiliness of two complete distinct set of minds and bodies, and so momentary that only the true look can captivate it is what delights me in the pursue of the perfect light-shadow combination. Or going further into this dream, being able to construct a so everlasting creation that the first gaze will be just the propelling vehicle where this two bodies will further develop a unique set of fantasies, dreams, emotions where that first gaze will forever renovate itself into a cycle of same gazes being seen by different angles, time, emotions and viewers that end up at that unique first gaze by this two special actors.





"Hay que ser realistas ...soñemos lo imposible." - Ernesto Guevara de la Serna






Listening to "Anos Dourados" - Chico Buarque & Tom Jobim

Memoria in aeterna

Is the price of living a dream greater than the price of living without venturing to dream?

The dreams have always been part of people's lives, from ancient Greece, where Pythias interpreted them, to the more recent theories that express the neurological phenomena. Also we can find innumerous definitions to the word DREAM. Ranging from the merely scientific angle where it is seen as a series of psychic phenomena that occur involuntarily during our sleep to more religious ones that includes the sincerely manner of which God could communicate to the prophets, state of partial emancipation of the soul, occasion where our perceptions would be sharpened, and several others.

But one thing is universally known about dreams: the fiction, or that other reality if you prefer invented by us, humans, using our lived experiences mingled with the leaven of our unfulfilled desires and imagination, has joined us as our guardian angels since the depths of prehistory, what began as a winding road, after millennia, would take us to the stars, to dominate the atoms and other several prodigious achievements in the domain of knowledge, lead us to discovery of human rights, freedom, but also the destructive brutality, shown the way to better understand the same desires and sentiments that help create it, it created the SOVEREIGN INDIVIDUAL. Dreams were the corner stone of our civilization.

Dreams were the fundamental paradigm revolutionized in idea of the civilization’s birth, or dawn of the civilization, and are deeply identified with a common ceremony that took place in a deep cave or in the clearing of a forest where we see humans, squatting or sitting, around a campfire which helps them repel insects and so called evil spirits, men and women of the tribe, attentive, absorbed, suspended to a state that would not be a exaggeration to call religious trance, kind of a daydream, of the words they hear coming from the mouth of a man or woman who would be fair, though nor sufficient, to call it witch, shaman, healer, because although it would be considered to be one, he is someone that also DREAMS and communicates their DREAMS to others, making the entire tribe to DREAM in a unison with him, after all he is a storyteller.

And the man and woman who are there, while, witched by what they hear, let their imaginations run wild, flying out of their precarious and simple existences into another life – a life of lies, not common or ordinary lies, but truly lies, which they build in a silent complicity with the man or woman who, at the center of the scenario, tells fables out loud – performing, without warns, the more exclusively human endeavor, the one which more genuinely and exclusively defines the human nature, that it is yet in formation: The possibility of living their common place lives to live for a couple of minutes or hours a substitute for the “real” reality, that they do not choose, the one that is fatally imposed by any given reason at birth and random circumstances of the so called life, a life that sooner or later feels like an easement or a prison from which we wish to escape. Those who are there, listening to the storyteller, lulled by new images that his words poured over them, as before, in solitude or privacy, were perpetrated, by minutes or burst, this live exorcism and abjurations of the real life, by fantasizing and DREAMing.

And this complex procedure of turning that into a collective activity, a social event, institutionalized into the tribe life, is a momentous step in the process of humanization of the primitive, is the start of their spiritual life, the birth of culture, of the long road into civilization, and the most important feature that has its ignition in this moment is our: MEMORY. A common memory to our whole kind, a collective DREAM that we can share, use, add and modify in a single movement where every aspect of the civilization is changed by the slightest modification in our perception of life.

DREAMS while helping us to face our fears and desires, made us more resilient and ambitious, also gave a transcendent meaning to our freedom by giving birth to a wish to live differently from what common day circumstances forced us. Therefore, although the millennial passage of human events have obliged us to strip of many things – prejudices, taboos, fears, habits, beliefs, Gods and demons – which were important obstacles in order to reach new heights of progress and civilization, we remained faithful to this particular ancient rite.

It was, and is, the most powerful tool that allows us to escape our fears and frustrations, helps fulfill our desires, outwit old age and overcome death, live the love that was over, and the mercy of our enemies and lost friends; it was, and it always will be the cruelty and excesses that we call angels and demons that live within our cores, and thus multiplying the possibilities of our lives in the crackling heat of the fire of that other life, impalpable, witched and essential that we call DREAMS.

Living the DREAM or abandoning it probably costs the same, usually a very expensive price. But the first act leads us to commune with the miracle of life, and the second is not useful for anything.

But no matter what you choose, be sure to enjoy every single second of it… After all DREAMS are, by definition, cursed with a short life…




"Dreams are the touchstones of our character." - Henry David Thoreau & "All men dream, but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds, wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act on their dreams with open eyes, to make them possible." - T. E. Lawrence




Listening to "Brothers in Arms" - Dire Straits

Ad Libitur

Deep down in the cold abyss of your gaze
Lie thousands of silly silent temptations
Amazing how some girls are so women…

With mad and wild tricks of mere confusion
Spreading through her hair, mouth, skin
Destroying my complete body and mind…

Some women, ephemerons like you are
Just can take me wherever they want to
As boys just cannot resist your mysteries…

Such an entanglement confusion of smiles
And eyes capable of devouring all my senses
That I just don’t care about myself anymore…

After all, boys just cannot ever say no…

Some naïve pretentious boys just like me
So used of being always right
Near a real women like you
Are just young kids…




“The soul that sees beauty may sometimes walk alone.” - Johann von Goethe




Listening to Soulive – “PJ’s”

Pacta sunt servanda

After being circulating around for a few years
Lonely in the less traveled road up ahead
One’s magical soul end up discovering
That he should have loved even more…

Wishing to see that especial sunrise often
Taking more riskier and wilder decisions
Like accepting people as they are and will be
Even if you end up crying your eyes out…

Everyone is responsible for every single joy
As well as pains that they have in the heart
Consider caring less to day-to-day problems
And dying more of love as it were all over…

Randomness will always protect myself
Even in my wicked and sweet decision
Even when I walk totally distracted by your smile…





A minha realidade interior vive abaixo no nível da realidade que me cerca. Para restabelecer o equilíbrio, num contato normal com os demais seres humanos, tenho que escrever, porque a recriação da realidade pela imaginação, através da linguagem escrita, é a maneira que tenho de me comunicar.¨ - Fernando Sabino.





Listening to ¨Carnavalia¨- Tribalistas

Nihil est ab omni parte beatum

Awake, arise, and evolve
There's a war coming our way…
At the edge of infinity,
In the narrow paths of the universe,
I see the ashes of time…
Renaissance through fire dances
Leading to Purification…
In the vastness of your eyes,
Transportation to the closeness…
Listen, see and escape
Like a thunder that got away…
When darkest night falls
The gap between the Worlds opens
And loneliness absorbs ones soul...
The night is long, sometimes cosmic
But there will always be a dawn…
And just when sunlight resurfaces
Ones gypsy soul awakes refreshed…






“Há certo gosto em pensar sozinho. É ato individual, como nascer e morrer.” -
Carlos Drummond de Andrade





Listening to “Tempestade” – Cordel do Fogo Encantado

Unitas mirabile vinculum

Life and death, joy and disappointed, emotion and howl are always allying themselves inside ourselves, not to recreate or recognize, but to raven us from the inside. And all this motley of confusions, acts, omissions, regrets and attempts that we can call each life in death finds, no meaning or explanation, but purpose. And as we walk through this experience, called existence, we end up realizing that to refute death in the end is to deny life. Is only death that defines ourselves as human beings, is just the certainty of life’s perishability, that every grain of sand that drops from that inner self hourglass take us closer to finally delineate our reality allows ourselves to have a life. In an World where opposites are always reconciled through synchronicity and light and shadow merge in every single dawn, to die properly is the only way of knowing that you lived your real life, that you were able to commingle with the world’s soul as you sailed through your personal quest.





"The one that remains within itself will never love someone." - Vinicius de Morais




Listening to Wave - Tom Jobim & Stan Getz

Bellum omium contra omnes

News will eternally lose all control of facts,
Fake celebrities will fall into anonymity,
Blur pictures will cross my ocean of sorrows,
All Journals will be printed in blank,
Paintings will be dissolved into one single bucket,
As the argument is deprived of its essence…

The dawn will be bring no new voices into light,
Billboards will be placed with the letters exchanged,
Nobody will recall how to sign its signature,
Taxi drivers no longer will know which road to take,
Words of my dictionary will be deformed,
As this becomes a strange day to feel happiness…

And all that is necessary so we can be together…

It’s just a time for us to go crazy forever…




“Do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict myself, I am large, I contain multitudes.“ - Walt Whitman




Listening to “Epistrophy” – Thelonious Monk

In posterum

I've always wanted to talk about one thing,
Guess where it invariably goes to?
It can be inside the darkness of my chest
Or walk freely trough the air, shapeless...
It maybe be laying right next to you
Much closer than we think or suppose...
The sweet sheet of youth,
That should be the right name of Love...

It, at least once in your lifetime
Pruned its moments,
Deviating you from your final destination...

With its young child's smile
Often hides in the daily clouds of routine...
Being renovated in the new dawn of each day...

And if properly cultivated,
It will give us life,
Flower and Fruit...






"En todos los tiempos y en todos los climas, las relaciones humanas — y especialmente las amorosas— corren el riesgo de volverse equívocas. (...) . Pero es notable la frecuencia con que canciones populares, refranes y conductas cotidianas aluden al amor como falsedad y mentira. Casi siempre eludimos los riesgos de una relación desnuda a través de una exageración, en su origen sincera, de nuestros sentimientos. Asimismo, es revelador cómo el carácter combativo del erotismo se acentúa entre nosotros y se encona. El amor es una tentativa de penetrar en otro ser, pero sólo puede realizarse a condición de que la entrega sea mutua. En todas partes es difícil este abandono de sí mismo; pocos coinciden en la entrega y más pocos aún logran trascender esa etapa posesiva y gozar del amor como lo que realmente es: un perpetuo descubrimiento, una inmersión en las aguas de la realidad y una recreación constante. Nosotros concebimos el amor como conquista y como lucha. No se trata tanto de penetrar la realidad, a través de un cuerpo, como de violarla. De ahí que la imagen del amante afortunado —herencia, acaso, del Don Juan español— se confunda con la del hombre que se vale de sus sentimientos —reales o inventados— para obtener a la mujer." Mascaras Mexicanas - Octavio Paz






Listening to "Samba da Benção" - Bebel Gilberto

Emitte lucem et veritatem

Heavenly Lord of all mornings
Bring a star, goddess, moon or a new
To this old heart of sterling silver…

In my hand a bright flower
Steady, clear, white, charming…
In my thoughts only one question:

Will we see each other before the first evening star?

Certainty only one…
Life will not cease…





“And forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair.” - Kahlil Gibran





Listening to Cream – “White room”

Latet anguis in herba

I’m not good with wrong numbers,
With cynical made-up phrases,
Or false story’s morals…

I like what takes my breath away…

I worship the unlikely…

Crave for the almost impossible…

My heart remains free,
Although keeping a deeper love…

I have a pace that complicates me,
And a certain will that does not goes away,
A word that never sleeps…

Do you like a good challenge?
Try being in love with me…

I’m not an easy person,
I do collect my enemies,
Almost never available,
And my humor changes like the moon…

I’m easily bored by common places,
Nothing interests me in the day to day,
And I carry with my thoughts the “unrest”…

My pair of wings is always set…

Sometimes, late in the evening, I travel…
Not knowing what is up ahead…

And always looking for answers
That I cannot find in today’s mess…

Last night I lost a dream,
And with it all its tears and smiles…

But that’s the funny thing about life…

When we least expect, we overcome it…
And end up closer to be who we really are…





“(...) Cada uno acepta lo que va descubriendo de sí mismo en las miradas de los demás, se va formando en la convivencia, se confunde con el que suponen los otros y actúa de acuerdo con lo que se espera de ese supuesto inexistente.” - Juan Carlos Onetti.





Listening to Eddie Vedder – “Setting Forth”

In pace, ut sapiens, aptarit idonea bello

All roads tread so we can see each other,
All the paths converge so you can find me,
I turn my senses for half-truths,
My full half cry of happiness…

Within any distance you can reach the other...
Through day and night we stand on the floor,
Details that just the heart can be alert to...

If you go, I stop,
If you do, I talk,
But only we, in a closed room,
Can feel the good taste of the opposite...

I don’t know, but I feel,
The only force that makes things.
I speak so I can hear the world,
The difference in the one way it beats...





"Whenever you find yourself on the side of the majority, it is time to pause and reflect." -
Mark Twain





Listening to "Comfortably Numb" - Pink Floyd

Veritas numquam perit

I don’t like being a poet for a lapsed world
Also I’m not a fan of singing the future…

I’m always chained to life by looking at my companions.
They are taciturn people, but I have high hopes…

Among their presence, I consider the grandiosity of reality.
The present is so vast that it will not keep us apart.

Do not go too far away…
At the end of the day will be traveling hand by hand…

I’ll refuse to be a one women singer,
Of only one story…
I’ll not say any whispers in the evening,
Or be attached to a single view from a particular window.
I won’t be handling empty drugs or suicidal notes,
And definitely wont run away to your island
Or kidnapped by seraphim…

Time is my favorite subject, present time,
The present man, the present life…





“Chance is a word void of sense; nothing can exist without a cause. “ – Voltaire





Listening to “Gimme Shelter” – Paul Brady & The Forest Rangers.

Ad astra per aspera

How many lives have we lived? Actually, the question should be different: How many lives are we living now? That’s up to us to decide…

There was always one question in my mind while I was growing up, and I do believe that this question has being around since the beginning of our civilization. The question is simple: “Where does life ends?” Or an even simpler question: “How can we know that something is gone?”

It goes back into a time where not even science reaches, and the one that reaches has thesis and conjectures that looks so much like fantasy and fiction that for the normal person they seem too random and evanescent.

But firstly to correct assert the question, or questions, we do need to step away from the idea that time can be measured, it simple can’t. We have created a formal convention, absolutely needed for society to develop its full potential, otherwise science couldn’t work, but at the same time we created a shadow, a fog curtain, that prevents ourselves of experiencing the true meaning and characteristic of time.

One could say that time do not exist yet. All references and conditions required to punctuate his path has not yet appeared for us, and those who live immersed in the lack of awareness of the all the passages and rites, in the past, present and future, and even death, to such an extent, are prisoners of a continuous present that prevents them from seeing before and after.

Another trick assumption created by our society, is the “reality” that surrounds everything that we are. Visible, touchable, that we can fully interact with, a marvelous conception that allowed, in the beginning, our survival while facing predators and the environment, but also that keep us from seeing the complete picture. And with reality came “memory”, just like machines, it helped protect us from danger, enable life in society and the most important feature to accumulate knowledge from the passage of culture from one generation to the other.

But all that is not life. Is just an illusion, a looking-glass that we, if wanted, can look straight trough it. Time, Reality and Memory are just concepts created by the human mind in order to make life in society feasible. But the Present ends up absorbing all that, in impressive eagerness to survive the vastness that surrounds that single moment. And this single moment is when Present consumes its own existence.

Time do not passes; it is just the present moment. Right know, in this single moment, while I write this text, is my first kiss, the sound of my grandfather playing the piano while I was playing with my brothers in the living room and is the first gaze of my mother that I can remember. We are all that we were, all that we are and that will be. Nothing has a end or a beginning, eternity is the Present, now I can live and experience everything that has being and will be.

Sometimes we are scared of this irrefutable truth. We always desire that all feelings, and specially love, stayed as they once were, in the moment that we all think it was perfect, but that is a trap created by Time, Reality and Memory. As we are always everything that was, is and will be we are in a constant metamorphosis, and following that, all feelings are changing in a never-ending process. Metamorphosis is necessity and who we are.

Nothing starts at birth and ends with death, or more generally, nothing has a start or an ending. We are made of everything that is stored in the world soul. We can never lose or be separated of an experience or a person; we will always be traveling in the same train, but in different cars. And as a real train, although I sometimes can not be with a person or experiences that are in different cars, I do know that they are there, I do know that they keep traveling with me, I do know that they will be always by my side, and most important, I know that they will always be part of my life…





"Friendship is refreshment and sweetness as we pass this way. There is no death. What seems so is transition. All that is beautiful and good and true in human life is no more affected by the shadow of death than by the darkness that divides today from tomorrow." Scottish Rite - Rose Croix Funeral Service.





Listening to Dizzy Gillespie - "On the Sunny Side of the Street"

Tamdiu discendum est, quamdiu vivas

Pure, simple and outspoken,
Endless desire for frivolous delights,
That’s how my being likes to be…

With no need for false clothes or disguises
I follow and live the moment, willful
Regardless of the closed doors…

No lies, excuses or silly pretentions,

If I have to go back,
I just follow my heart through the road less traveled!

If I realize that I need to follow,
I only need to close my eyes to see your path!

If everything is wrong,
I take all masks that ashamed me in starting over!

If everything is working,
I follow all crazy, passionate daydreams that shows who Am I!

If I find rocks in my way,
I keep all, and one day I’ll built a Castle!

If I lost a love,
I don’t stop until I find it in the daily confusion!

If I truly found one love,
I spread my wings and fly in your direction!

I am just myself
The real me
Made of dreams
And Guileless

In the end we only have the moment,
That’s why I live the reality of my dreams…





“Consistency is contrary to nature, contrary to life. The only completely consistent people are dead. “ - Aldous Huxley





Listening to “Ziggy Stardust” – David Bowie

Graviora manent

Do not doubt that in life anything can happen
As the Sun may be hot, and suddenly,
Thunders and rain can appear in the sky…
But the rain can wash your soul, be patient,
It will happen…
Everything that is suppose to, will happen…
Learn… Know how to wait,
Do not refuse to believe in…
It was that careless desire to win
That almost made us ill…





“Life is not a matter of holding good cards, but sometimes, playing a poor hand well.” – Jack London




Listening to “The End” – The Doors

Sapere aude!

What can I do against the charm
Of this love that I so deeply deny…

That I so deeply avoid, and yet
It always comes back to hex me…

I know that I loved, too much
And only I know what I suffered
Because of your love…

Nobody was there
Only I…

I cried, even lost my peace
But I’m the only who know
That nobody ever had more of it
No more than I…

And if we had not loved
And if it were not painful
Had not suffered at all
Had not cried at all

It would be better to be all gone…





“Rather than love, than money, than fame, give me truth.” - Henry David Thoreau





Listening to Dave Matthews Band – “The Space Between us”

Occasio aegre offertur, facile amittitur

I do believe that the secret of time is to consume it without knowing.
Is pretend to be infinity so we'll not see it passing through your fingers.
Is to change it to be counted in moments rather than the simplicity of years.

Clocks, Alarms, stopwatch, calendar, days, nights, seasons,
Are all baits so we can imagine how to hold it, control it.

Hourglass, the only truly instrument of time flowing.
Backwards, in its own flow imposing the gravity of
Really having to face the existence of the final grain of sand.
Scratching its perversity in the sand of our fragility.

But time is impartial while pouring down into the hole
Devouring us without any choice of confrontation.
Killing time is to slaughter ourselves senseless
Losing it is to live in the vanity of the common place.

It’s the invisible and precise pointer of life’s sanctity
And a beloved and necessary part of the End.

Its hunger for lust and vanity is insatiable
Its resilient will is key and aim to all sins
And its demands are irrevocable and unanimous.

Lurking in the shadows and souls of every moving being
Into objects that no longer are used or serves its propose
In people, places and sounds that we have never saw or met
In rotting fruit in fields of anger that were never harvested
In the long-forgotten memories that we once treasured
There it is…

And in the end it shows its countenance
In every picture of our memories that are fading away…
In all the children that kept growing despise of all warnings…
In the actions of those that are yet to come into our life…

In the sand that runs through the hourglass
And end up in our empty wrinkled hands...
Leaving us in the sole companion of Pandora and our memories…





"If I found a job, a project, an idea or a person I wanted-I'd have to depend on the whole world. Everything has strings leading to everything else. We're all so tied together. We're all in a net, the net is waiting, and we're pushed into it by one single desire. You want a thing and it's precious to you. Do you know who is standing ready to tear it out of your hands? You can't know, it may be so involved and so far away, but someone is ready, and you're afraid of them all. And you cringe and you crawl and you beg and you accept them-just so they'll let you keep it. And look at whom you come to accept..." - Any Rand - The Fountainhead





Listening to "I've Got you Under my skin" - Frank Sinatra Feat. Bono

Cogitationis poenam nemo patitur

Your love is a truly lie
That my vanity deeply needs…

And mine, like a blind poetry
Cannot be translated to
The language of man…

Because without our love,
I’m nothing…
It’s only love, just love
That can know what is true…

Love is neither good nor evil…

It does not feel envy…

Love is fire
That burns unseen…

It’s a wound that hurts
But cannot be felt…

It’s a joy discontented…

It’s a pain that bothers without hurting…





“To die is nothing; but it is terrible not to live.” - Victor Hugo, Les Miserables





Listening to Kele – “Everything you wanted”

Liberae sunt nostrae cogitationes

The Winds that sometimes take something that we love

Are the same who bring something that we can learn to love...

So we shouldn't cry for the things that were taken away

And yes learn to love the things we've been given...

Because everything that was truly ours,

Never goes away...





"I don't even know what I was running for - I guess I just felt like it." - J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye





Listening to "Across the Universe" - The Beatles

Duc, sequere, aut de via decede

I’m made of
Broken dreams
Unknown details
And unresolved loves…

I’m a mixture of
Unreasonable cryings
Heart of people
And impulsive acts…

I wait for
Places I don’t know
Experiences I didn’t live
And all people that I haven’t met…

I am
Constant Love and Affection
Pretty distracted
But never stopping…

I had
Sleepless nights
People lost
And accomplished things not promised…

I often
Give up without trying
Run away not to face
And smiled no to cry…

I feel for
Things I didn’t change
Friendships not cherished
Those who I judged
And the things that I said…

I sincerely miss
People I have met
Memories that I forgot
Friends that I lost
And all dreams that were never true…

But I keep living and learning…





"But all this must be suffered by those who profess the stern order of chivalry" & “Everything is artifice or illusion” - Don Quixote – Miguel de Cervantes





Listening to Hoodoo Gurus – “Come Anytime”

Difficile est longum subito deponere amorem

The night falls into the city
Coming from nowhere
And suddenly the day is gone
Going to anyplace…

I didn’t feel hunger
Didn’t feel cold
Sitting in a dark corner
Of a empty room…

Shadows and thoughts
Of a hopeful dream
In the walls echoed…

Leaving just silence
And the remembrance of it…

Between vain streets
That I’m just discovering
The vertigo and dizziness
Sprang up all kinds of images…

That was the only way
To reach the sky and its last star
Everything that I was passing
Remembered me of her…

When the rain falls
In the lonely nights
Remember that I’ll always
Be there…




"It is during our darkest moments that we must focus to see the light." - Aristotle Onassis




Listening to Cream - "Sunshine of your Love"

Faber est suae quisque fortunae

Eyes wide shut

So I can find you

I may not be by your side

But I can dream of

Faraway from here

Distant from everywhere

My dreams will reach out

And I’ll always wait for you

I’m not quite sure

If it’s only a illusion

If it’s intuition

Or if now we’re close

But anywhere that I go

I take you in my eyes...

"Doubt thou the stars are fire, doubt that the sun doth move, doubt truth to be a liar but never doubt that I love." - W. Shakesphere

Listening to Creedence Clearwater Revival - "Someday Never Comes"

Ubi dubium ibi liberta

Above the sun

That’s where I want to be…

It’s easy to realize

That luck chose you

But your blindness

Keeps you from seen it…

In the day to day confusion

In the hassle of a doubt

In the pain of anything

How many pages in our life

Have love deserved…

In the mysterious moonlight

Spilling at the ridge near the sea

Your verses are hidden

So mine, that I ask in my verses

That you wait…

I don’t know why

But always see your eyes

In all the corners

It’s a lie if I say

That I don’t think about you…

After all Philosophers don’t say anything

That I can’t say…

"If you would be a real seeker after truth, it is necessary that at least once in your life you doubt, as far as possible, all things." - Rene Descartes

Listening to Porcupine Tree - "Train"

Peccatum tacituritatis

My dream, my dream,

Please go reach

The one who is far away…

Go show all my sorrows

And the things that I miss the most…

My sky misses a shinning star…

The cold late hours just brings me sadness

Making me feel

Every single minute of the night…

The chilling breeze

That makes flowers dance

Is just in my thoughts

To satisfy all my needs…

To bring the purity of a love…

Feelings, marking with miseries

The heartbreak of the one…

My dream, my dream

Please go reach

A love that changes you body

With its liberty…

“Where there is much light, the shadow is deep” - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Listening to David Bowie - "Rebel, Rebel"

Male parta male dilabuntur

For me One day is enough

No more than a day

Maybe a half-day

Give it to me

Just a day

And I’ll untie

My fantasy

Only one

A fine day

Because you can swear, kiss

Be mistreated, eat and kill

Love and torture

Be shredded, And healed

Only one

Holy day

Pain

In the daily orgy

Daylight

I just What I was asking for

A day to appease

My agony

All the bleeding

All the poison

Of a small day

Why is a raven like a writing desk? - The Mad Hatter - Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll

Listening to Mestre Ambrosio - "Pescador"

Bellum omium contra omnes

Take your hands off me

After all I don’t belong to you

Is not by overwhelming me

That you get to understand me…

I may be alone in this journey

But I know too well where I am

You may even doubt

But this path I walk by myself…

I’ll be lost between monsters

Of my own creation and imagination

During my whole nights…

Perhaps for fear of the dark

I’ll be up all night long

Imaging a solution

That will allow my selfishness

To not destruct my heart…

Maybe is just imagination…

I don’t know what will happen…

Maybe it’s all in vain…

"Dreams are the touchstones of our character" - Henry David Thoreau

Listening to Milton Nascimento - "Milagre dos Peixes"

Ex uno disce omnes

No matter where you stopped...

At what point in life you tired ...

What matters is that it is always possible and necessary a "Restart"...

Restart is a new chance to yourself...

Is to renew your hope in life...

And most important believing in you again...

Suffered greatly during this period?

Was learning process...

You cried a lot?

You were cleaning your soul...

Became angry at people?

Only to forgive them one day...

Felt lonely several times?

Was when you closed your doors even to the angels...

Believed that all was lost?

That was when your restart began...

So... Now it's time to reboot...

Think about the light that you though had been lost...

Time to find, again, pleasure in simple things...

A bold new sense to life... A different one...

Or a new course to life... "Restart" that old desire to learn...

To paint... To draw... to know... to be...

Or anything else...

Look how many challenges facing you...

How many new things in this big world of you...

Waiting... Waiting for your "Restart"...

There are so many people waiting for your smile

An opportunity to get back near you...

People that you sent away with this "period of isolation"...

When we lock ourselves in sadness...

Neven we can support ourselves... we are horrible souls...

The bad mood keeps eating our liver... Until the mouth is bitter...

"Restart"... Today is a good day to start new challenges!

And today is the perfect time for a mental housecleaning...

Throw away everything that binds you to the past...

The little world of sad things...

Throw it all away... but mainly... Empty your heart...

Get ready for life... for new loves...

Remember we are impassioned...

We are always able to love again and again...

After all...

We are "Love"...

“If you don't know where you are going, any road will get you there.” - Lewis Carroll

Listening to The Beatles - "Elenor Rigby"