tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28451643563244692312024-02-21T15:15:37.021+00:00No B(r)anco Detrás"Cresce atrás das coisas como incêndio de verdade".
(Rilke - trad. MariaT.Furtado)caribacihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02300069411070533333noreply@blogger.comBlogger1393125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2845164356324469231.post-14624965165025445752023-12-30T22:39:00.003+00:002023-12-30T22:39:32.682+00:00Branco - CXII<p> </p><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">EL LOBITO BUENO</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Érase una vez</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">un lobito bueno </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">al que maltrataban</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">todos los corderos.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Y había también</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">un príncipe malo</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">una bruja hermosa</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">y un pirata honrado.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Todas estas cosas</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">había una vez.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Cuando yo soñaba</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">un mundo al revés.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>José Agustín Goytisolo</b>, <i>Palabras para Julia,</i> 1979; Lumen, Barcelona, 2015</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>caribacihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02300069411070533333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2845164356324469231.post-77725529544362993832023-12-30T22:22:00.002+00:002023-12-30T22:22:35.610+00:00Cores<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKsPQbruCDMbyU1B_jE7wwKzLTfJxkXGBllUKleJ5v9t6btyc7CvPH65Y0N26Mp_bB_NAZFGNK9HTqmskDyEcByeG4pWeEt4nshtNYuruVJD7rRBxBFJO92-Pl364seWjEC72GEGK93IeYujEsS7dGavdRLQgimuzd7muAfiB_fFuwV9q0i97WjKwwh0I/s1054/Grande%20Sert%C3%A3o.webp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1054" data-original-width="700" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKsPQbruCDMbyU1B_jE7wwKzLTfJxkXGBllUKleJ5v9t6btyc7CvPH65Y0N26Mp_bB_NAZFGNK9HTqmskDyEcByeG4pWeEt4nshtNYuruVJD7rRBxBFJO92-Pl364seWjEC72GEGK93IeYujEsS7dGavdRLQgimuzd7muAfiB_fFuwV9q0i97WjKwwh0I/s320/Grande%20Sert%C3%A3o.webp" width="213" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Companhia das Letras, Lisboa, 2021</b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Matou-se capivara gorda, por fim. Dum geralista roto, ganhamos farinha-de-burití, sempre ajudava. E seguimos o corgo que tira da lagoa Sussuarana, e que recebe o do Jenipapo e a Vereda-do-Vitorino, e que verte no Rio Pandeiros - esse tem cachoeiras que cantam, e é d'água tão tinto, que papagaio voa por cima e gritam, sem acordo: - <i>É verde! É azul! É verde! É verde!... </i>E longe pedra velha remelêja, vi. Santas águas, de vizinhas. E era bonito, no correr do baixo campo, as flores do capitão-da-sala - todas vermelhas e alaranjadas, rebrilhando estremecidas, de reflexo. - "É o cavalheiro-da-sala..." - Diadorim falou, entusiasmado. Mas o Alaripe, perto de nós, sacudiu a cabeça. - "Em minha terra, o nome dessa" - ele disse - "é dona-joana... Mas o leite dela é venenoso..."</span></p> <p></p><p style="text-align: right;">(p50-51)</p>caribacihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02300069411070533333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2845164356324469231.post-47890318544482355502023-12-10T21:31:00.006+00:002023-12-10T21:32:37.691+00:00Cores<p> </p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Os minutos nem contam.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Os segundos ficam pela pista</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">ao soltarem-se das sapatilhas de Usain Bolt.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"> -/-</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">O pintor cubista tinha uma empregada</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">cuja única tarefa era fazer com que cubos</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">e outros sólidos estivessem sempre à mão.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"> -/-</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">No café os jornais da casa</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">andam sempre numa azáfama</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">da parte da manhã.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Francisco José Craveiro de Carvalho</b>, <i>As Sapatilhas de Usain Bolt & Outros Tercetos</i>, Companhia das Ilhas, 2015.</span></p>caribacihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02300069411070533333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2845164356324469231.post-78127475822122638532023-12-10T21:02:00.003+00:002023-12-10T21:03:22.618+00:00Azul - CLXXXVII<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkedh0jFSHJ3AxNbdZ6-2tV0ge4-_I3G6KxsAJvT4YUuZB2gn8x1eUW2CC3CZrV4tYh7zpswuCQhLn2LazUNIIX86GIyuDbSxdXSijcfIp5G0lIVqPcMs1qzNfjSw3Sqi0Caq1b4hycURnSd6a6Jc1xB5slUc6zNT1T5fmX1G9x3fJTH9KQGsShlsRWgg/s3456/IMG_1193.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="3456" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkedh0jFSHJ3AxNbdZ6-2tV0ge4-_I3G6KxsAJvT4YUuZB2gn8x1eUW2CC3CZrV4tYh7zpswuCQhLn2LazUNIIX86GIyuDbSxdXSijcfIp5G0lIVqPcMs1qzNfjSw3Sqi0Caq1b4hycURnSd6a6Jc1xB5slUc6zNT1T5fmX1G9x3fJTH9KQGsShlsRWgg/w400-h266/IMG_1193.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Cabedelo - Figueira da Foz - 07/2023</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Caribaci</b></p>caribacihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02300069411070533333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2845164356324469231.post-37769791561216193612023-11-28T11:10:00.000+00:002023-11-28T11:10:01.481+00:00Preto e Branco - LI<p> </p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> Levantou-se e foi ao espelho de corpo inteiro. Despiu-se e observou-se. Estava todo em bom estado de conservação. A pele não tinha rugas, não tinha gretas, não havia gordura a mais, ou pêlo a mais, ou músculo indesejável. O perfeito maxilar quadrado. A viril sobrancelha que parecia natural. A plena madura juventude.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> Vestiu-se devagar. A camisa branca era uma afirmação que não estava preparado para fazer. Mas era o que tinha trazido nesta viagem e Pedro Levi resignou-se a mostrar o que não sentia. Preto e branco, sim ou sopas, desportivo. Tratar o corpo como um quadro de paisagem, era o que tinha aprendido na escola. Não somos como os outros.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Luísa Costa Gomes</b>, <i>Olhos Verdes (</i>1994), Público, 2002, p38</span></p>caribacihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02300069411070533333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2845164356324469231.post-48844009586580803722023-11-26T08:53:00.007+00:002023-11-26T08:59:35.271+00:00Branco - CXI<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuKtdjAOsE0tai5fUS4BpCUVBgiJZiyb8mUvflhen53jt6LXEJ49v7nu4BjKc1vBzZ-nL-9z_n2dod1XhBXhUsGM-K5h2eJrKDp2eI1z5inF6k0rDmGaLVDAU3MTA8ElHHwTv9XV6BOEUJaIlldNYZi5ESAIoxaphxrveQfSp7BN86jvOiFx-O5tMrPRU/s3824/img461.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2672" data-original-width="3824" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuKtdjAOsE0tai5fUS4BpCUVBgiJZiyb8mUvflhen53jt6LXEJ49v7nu4BjKc1vBzZ-nL-9z_n2dod1XhBXhUsGM-K5h2eJrKDp2eI1z5inF6k0rDmGaLVDAU3MTA8ElHHwTv9XV6BOEUJaIlldNYZi5ESAIoxaphxrveQfSp7BN86jvOiFx-O5tMrPRU/w400-h280/img461.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Figueira da Foz - Dez/1980</p><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Caribaci</b></p>caribacihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02300069411070533333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2845164356324469231.post-46238389987316722352023-11-21T22:45:00.002+00:002023-11-21T22:45:17.613+00:00Arco-Íris<p> </p><p style="text-align: right;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">ÚLTIMA TENTAÇÃO</span></b></p><p style="text-align: right;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b></p><p style="text-align: right;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b></p><p style="text-align: right;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> E então ela quis tentá-lo definitivamente. Olhou bem em volta, com extrema atenção. Mas só conseguiu encontrar uma pera pequenina e pálida.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> Ficaram os dois numa desesperante frustração.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> Não há dúvida que o Paraíso está a tornar-se cada vez mais chato!</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><b>mário-henrique leiria</b>, <i>Novos Contos do Gin</i>, Editorial Estampa, 1973 - 5ª edição, 1999, p29.</p>caribacihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02300069411070533333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2845164356324469231.post-24197923442053225702023-11-17T19:33:00.007+00:002023-11-17T19:33:57.755+00:00Cores<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7R6PiGelv2yw9x56YAq2QlTEQm0F3wIak3uwrKBeDArTlrhFFgthkMlTIgIkDsBLFDPnBxRf-FLxB7SDUtPQj1lVe51aE3S7dgkCVLYJhkh4nOD5ZwRsC0o9PAc5JAEk3wQEHFIEpOm25tQirRYTB0ecxIu_bcTECaQuz2Lxe6-HqFEh4JYx1orUSZ9c/s761/img029A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="761" data-original-width="700" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7R6PiGelv2yw9x56YAq2QlTEQm0F3wIak3uwrKBeDArTlrhFFgthkMlTIgIkDsBLFDPnBxRf-FLxB7SDUtPQj1lVe51aE3S7dgkCVLYJhkh4nOD5ZwRsC0o9PAc5JAEk3wQEHFIEpOm25tQirRYTB0ecxIu_bcTECaQuz2Lxe6-HqFEh4JYx1orUSZ9c/w294-h320/img029A.jpg" width="294" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Caribaci</b></p>caribacihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02300069411070533333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2845164356324469231.post-45417040261862165622023-11-17T19:25:00.009+00:002023-11-17T19:25:44.383+00:00Cores <p> </p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">"Sem fontes não há luz. (...) os cientistas do IST e do Politécnico de Milão usaram <i>lasers</i> que emitem luz branca, que dura um femtossegundo (um segundo vale mil biliões de femtossegundos) e abarca todas as cores do vermelho ao verde - o que corresponde a metade do espectro de luz visível. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Uma vez emitida, a luz segue para um par de dispositivos: um primeiro que isola as várias cores do feixe de luz; e um segundo "prende" cada cor."</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Hugo Séneca</b>, <i>O Futuro do Futuro - A inédita luz</i>, jornal <i>Expresso</i>, 23 de Junho de 2023</span></p>caribacihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02300069411070533333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2845164356324469231.post-21732586979547319302023-11-10T21:56:00.008+00:002023-11-10T21:56:50.682+00:00Branco - CX<p> </p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">narciso desenhado</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">na brancura do papel - </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">cada um reflecte o outro</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">vento branco de outono -</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">será que parte com ele </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">o perfume da última flor?</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Matsuo Bashô</b>, <i>O Eremita viajante [haikus - obra completa]</i>, org. e trad. de Joaquim Palma, Assírio & Alvim, Lisboa, 2016, p233.</span></p>caribacihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02300069411070533333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2845164356324469231.post-22438453963821091822023-11-09T14:04:00.008+00:002023-11-09T14:05:13.651+00:00Branco - CIX<p> </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5T9ldu-cRIcE7z4jjvYFSEPMFHvb0TAKDd4vKSBWOuQdgHZxE0IoPEsfHeuwdn8a9nyL9WyLnYQXMgWt3ncg62gnXgumwQsZayUk8DgfsIRTwoI-gMot63VfdyXSQvRLmXgnh6mP3FeNUA7G0WV0D4GwLXgX1Qpj19KwuL0MTuW-zJhMM7ugfvO8l71k/s4608/outubro16%20064.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3440" data-original-width="4608" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5T9ldu-cRIcE7z4jjvYFSEPMFHvb0TAKDd4vKSBWOuQdgHZxE0IoPEsfHeuwdn8a9nyL9WyLnYQXMgWt3ncg62gnXgumwQsZayUk8DgfsIRTwoI-gMot63VfdyXSQvRLmXgnh6mP3FeNUA7G0WV0D4GwLXgX1Qpj19KwuL0MTuW-zJhMM7ugfvO8l71k/w400-h299/outubro16%20064.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Vale das Pombas - Figueira da Foz</b></p><p style="text-align: center;">22/10/2016</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Caribaci</b></p>caribacihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02300069411070533333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2845164356324469231.post-84030048937395723492023-11-03T14:45:00.004+00:002023-11-03T14:48:51.459+00:00Vermelho - XCV<p> </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6eIxTdA512Kb-IFITW5uDkMT27DfxBoc1b2HSwxKDJGGRXPrysQZLAH7O2bjIi0VMwMgPigrbDW4bDte0YCveoPtScfS7J_9ReHkg8eT3ALdv3UY5XYSe9Hrt2UBlLhmU3w_oySMmhieexG68FWiYR0dzG9QaJQd13rgQjno81XYTm7TL5Eo8Ew902LM/s1600/Photo20575.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6eIxTdA512Kb-IFITW5uDkMT27DfxBoc1b2HSwxKDJGGRXPrysQZLAH7O2bjIi0VMwMgPigrbDW4bDte0YCveoPtScfS7J_9ReHkg8eT3ALdv3UY5XYSe9Hrt2UBlLhmU3w_oySMmhieexG68FWiYR0dzG9QaJQd13rgQjno81XYTm7TL5Eo8Ew902LM/w300-h400/Photo20575.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 16px; text-align: start;"><i>Não sofra mais</i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 16px; text-align: start;">Ragnar Kjartansson</b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 16px; text-align: start;">2023</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">(Caribaci)</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg5izHdY1rEZ-b1_89snKMevYLgRFP4crzbnzBVSiyekaKg1_0aKigqb_YAbawAVn27czZbedYn1x1q6VCqcirvADiay-ii9TNNOozfzXgXeZKDnMjw_6XJOWirG-M8KlzFwzB8DfqLQDiCEzSgraYpQTGDLoDuvRAjbrTHwHPXEVGK49yI4VIV71QJt0/s1600/Photo20584.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg5izHdY1rEZ-b1_89snKMevYLgRFP4crzbnzBVSiyekaKg1_0aKigqb_YAbawAVn27czZbedYn1x1q6VCqcirvADiay-ii9TNNOozfzXgXeZKDnMjw_6XJOWirG-M8KlzFwzB8DfqLQDiCEzSgraYpQTGDLoDuvRAjbrTHwHPXEVGK49yI4VIV71QJt0/s320/Photo20584.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"><i>God</i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 16px; text-align: start;">Ragnar Kjartansson</b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 16px; text-align: start;">2013</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">(Caribaci)</p><p style="text-align: center;"><b style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 16px; text-align: start;"><br /></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 16px; text-align: start;"><br /></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Convento de Santa Clara</span></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Coimbra</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><b>Exposição "Não sofra mais"</b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-size: 16px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><b>Ragnar Kjartansson</b></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Abril-Julho/2023</span></p><p style="text-align: center;">Anozero - Bienal de Coimbra</p>caribacihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02300069411070533333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2845164356324469231.post-37273264508366532332023-11-03T14:17:00.008+00:002023-11-03T14:17:54.557+00:00Vermelho - XCIV<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjus2hbr6sLE0ibtQES-7SEvJVZdP8wh0-rGIGDTWB4Z8ywYEwWnsul9EpUslRviM6ZwsRjETCq0VMkLaA0Pt5F76YwflDMuyI9aG2KW8u4yxEVWFCLqJXmPDAJC-gb7613axW1B8j_JVtewwQ2RfiyjPysRDQKEO1-Ycg02v6DcgVgVM-QJOvTih38_0Y/s1024/Galo-de-Barcelos-CMBarcelos_2008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjus2hbr6sLE0ibtQES-7SEvJVZdP8wh0-rGIGDTWB4Z8ywYEwWnsul9EpUslRviM6ZwsRjETCq0VMkLaA0Pt5F76YwflDMuyI9aG2KW8u4yxEVWFCLqJXmPDAJC-gb7613axW1B8j_JVtewwQ2RfiyjPysRDQKEO1-Ycg02v6DcgVgVM-QJOvTih38_0Y/w400-h266/Galo-de-Barcelos-CMBarcelos_2008.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Galo de Barcelos</span></b></p><p style="text-align: center;">Monumento de 2008</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">https://www.cm-barcelos.pt/items/galo-de-barcelos/</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>caribacihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02300069411070533333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2845164356324469231.post-12809330184098875622023-11-02T20:52:00.004+00:002023-11-02T20:59:57.141+00:00Cores<p> </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIyqqm15ydVByl6GRs6ExlrY7L7HI35obfsiSkPSuI06C3LkLzb_zdAQLEGbNeZ9WdKyb3naZoL3EbkUqiUSdq1LAz1t3Z3H4Zj9eKUIf93i2dMEVzPM_Zh37nK-tYEMy9ecfqzrOFhodqfTpK6Hg1vE0tovv31L18aklsD6b4ThNGQfClnOpEAU3I1wM/s3072/DSC04136.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="3072" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIyqqm15ydVByl6GRs6ExlrY7L7HI35obfsiSkPSuI06C3LkLzb_zdAQLEGbNeZ9WdKyb3naZoL3EbkUqiUSdq1LAz1t3Z3H4Zj9eKUIf93i2dMEVzPM_Zh37nK-tYEMy9ecfqzrOFhodqfTpK6Hg1vE0tovv31L18aklsD6b4ThNGQfClnOpEAU3I1wM/w400-h300/DSC04136.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Camaleão-comum</span></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Manta Rota - Vila Real de Santo António</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Caribaci</b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>caribacihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02300069411070533333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2845164356324469231.post-46362147760113473342023-10-30T21:26:00.005+00:002023-10-30T21:26:27.084+00:00Branco - CVIII<p> </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQYhKD59tN7znYNF6-lHcGnZFBJJQDIp9JqhMBNXBLkXGirJYfDPEmtcjs83_O_iHjXFfWMiP5SbFJI9z8S5jnDWrA0Vz7yBmT2Fef1L54BXo21ZJw8JjEwFuBC8STfnXfEzIzGuCVf-XXGOLTf_VRZ47LNOFC5K1BhQwNJ8VDvLetSYlTXaqYrP-4n1g/s3679/img463.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2704" data-original-width="3679" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQYhKD59tN7znYNF6-lHcGnZFBJJQDIp9JqhMBNXBLkXGirJYfDPEmtcjs83_O_iHjXFfWMiP5SbFJI9z8S5jnDWrA0Vz7yBmT2Fef1L54BXo21ZJw8JjEwFuBC8STfnXfEzIzGuCVf-XXGOLTf_VRZ47LNOFC5K1BhQwNJ8VDvLetSYlTXaqYrP-4n1g/s320/img463.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Caribaci</b></p>caribacihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02300069411070533333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2845164356324469231.post-79324014054721594392023-10-30T14:35:00.003+00:002023-10-30T14:35:34.776+00:00Branco - CVII<p> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">A MERCEARIA</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Numa mercearia, lá atrás, um póster de Marilyn Monroe.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Depois vemos a mercearia. Os alimentos mal arrumados, a sujidade no balcão e em várias prateleiras.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Depois vemos o casal que trabalha na mercearia, provavelmente os seus donos. São feios, terrivelmente feios. Os dois.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Lá atrás, o póster de Marilyn Monroe.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Gonçalo M. Tavares</b>, <i>Short Movies</i>, Ed. Caminho, Alfragide, 2011, p101.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>caribacihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02300069411070533333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2845164356324469231.post-49135890450594140452023-10-27T19:09:00.003+01:002023-10-27T19:09:53.452+01:00Verde - LIII<p> </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihBnKlMxQY-usXywujcdxmLInyy4QTGJTE9pbDnROKvfW4ddGn0q19gLJpL-GraviXK79pTOomDj_OkRdh3bu8GxC7j7CrRAMPv2N-tYh5a_vsbszoHth34K3G4rTE-fHWht-zN0H6iflG_YmcIYsgVTxT5pICQ-suxTmMHcoVujymkosUfyHeBL5mhJA/s1600/Photo21580.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihBnKlMxQY-usXywujcdxmLInyy4QTGJTE9pbDnROKvfW4ddGn0q19gLJpL-GraviXK79pTOomDj_OkRdh3bu8GxC7j7CrRAMPv2N-tYh5a_vsbszoHth34K3G4rTE-fHWht-zN0H6iflG_YmcIYsgVTxT5pICQ-suxTmMHcoVujymkosUfyHeBL5mhJA/w300-h400/Photo21580.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">Gala - Figueira da Foz - 2023</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Caribaci </b></p>caribacihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02300069411070533333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2845164356324469231.post-32639572025130946012023-10-27T18:59:00.005+01:002023-10-30T14:39:04.722+00:00Branco - CVI<p> </p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>O espelho que não conseguia dormir </b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Era uma vez um espelho de mão que quando ficava sozinho e ninguém nele se via sentia-se muito mal, como se não existisse, e talvez tivesse razão; mas os outros espelhos faziam troça dele, e quando à noite os guardavam na mesma gaveta do toucador dormiam a sono solto, satisfeitos, alheios à preocupação do neurótico.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Augusto Monterroso</b><i>, A ovelha negra e outras fábulas</i>, Angelus Novus Editora, Coimbra, 2008, p31.</span></p>caribacihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02300069411070533333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2845164356324469231.post-70922584481794358582023-10-25T21:26:00.002+01:002023-10-25T21:26:18.464+01:00AZUL - CLXXXVI<p> </p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"> - Vês?... Vês?...</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"> Alfredo acotovelava a Abérola. O coro, na límpida suavidade da manhã, ganhava nova beleza, mais claro som:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i>- Flôr da murta,</i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i>Raminho de freixo...</i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i> </i> - Ainda vais muito zangada?...</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"> Dizia-lho baixinho, muito meigamente, muito carinhosamente:</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"> - Não! Eu não sei zangar-me com ninguém!</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"> Punha nos olhos dele toda a ternura dos seus olhos dum azul tranquilo. De longe, veladamente, vinha e voltava a cantiga já apagada pela distância:</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i>A cobra pelo penedo,</i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i>Corre que desaparece.</i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i>Quem dá confiança a homens</i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i>- Oh flor da murta </i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i>Grande castigo merece!</i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"> Ela levantou os olhos risonhos:</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">- Merece?...</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">- Merece... - Beijos!</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">- Mau!</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><b>Raimundo Esteves</b>, <i>A Maria Abérola</i>, Edição da Casa Havanesa, Figueira da Foz, s/d, p65-66.</span></p>caribacihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02300069411070533333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2845164356324469231.post-60605196371202433752023-10-19T11:13:00.006+01:002023-11-28T11:00:53.312+00:00Preto e Branco - L<p> </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2oE_daEIGvGLW6i8hyhpF6TrwyACAGQWmjPhG_L3cBC_83CSHRPDox80e_NgpH1F82SkDrskYE7yspJWW_zgrxhGg6dh1ullSeZeXowt-pNxNBFVo4raUdsmXCf9OoeP7M7pG8UVZOR2txqyuaC1ptkBBVMqSLSG6-birDu5_IiS0YTk1ay9Ug2tXwbk/s3600/img462.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2688" data-original-width="3600" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2oE_daEIGvGLW6i8hyhpF6TrwyACAGQWmjPhG_L3cBC_83CSHRPDox80e_NgpH1F82SkDrskYE7yspJWW_zgrxhGg6dh1ullSeZeXowt-pNxNBFVo4raUdsmXCf9OoeP7M7pG8UVZOR2txqyuaC1ptkBBVMqSLSG6-birDu5_IiS0YTk1ay9Ug2tXwbk/w400-h299/img462.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><span style="text-align: center;"> Figueira da Foz - 12/1980</span><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Caribaci</b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p></div>caribacihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02300069411070533333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2845164356324469231.post-24178472134635761442023-10-17T18:58:00.005+01:002023-10-30T14:37:53.925+00:00Branco - CV<p> </p><p><br /></p><p>com os dentes dos sais </p><p>à mostra o mar d'hoje -</p><p>que não parece rir</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><b>Caribaci</b></p>caribacihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02300069411070533333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2845164356324469231.post-64452130377598370052023-10-16T13:47:00.004+01:002023-10-17T19:09:04.508+01:00Preto - XLIII<p> </p><p><br /></p><p>o morcego voou por sobre o pianista</p><p>e desapareceu</p><p><br /></p><p>ali havia sons a mais</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><b>Joaquim Palma,</b> "Oferenda Poética", Campo das Letras, 1ª ed., Junho de 2005</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>caribacihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02300069411070533333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2845164356324469231.post-43791503980557685682023-10-15T22:12:00.004+01:002023-10-17T19:08:42.826+01:00Preto e Branco - XLIX<p> </p><p>de cabeça inclinada</p><p>para a pedra negra </p><p>um lírio branco</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><b>Masaoka Shiki</b>, </p><p>"Aves dormindo enquanto flutuam [haikus]" - introdução, notas e versões portuguesas de Joaquim M. Palma, Assírio & Alvim, 1ª edição, Outubro de 2021.</p>caribacihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02300069411070533333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2845164356324469231.post-66525023360103623242023-10-13T16:00:00.004+01:002023-10-19T11:14:56.520+01:00Cores <p> </p><p><br /></p><p>regresso </p><p>- com os anos como prancha</p><p>num tubo alto</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><b>Caribaci</b></p>caribacihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02300069411070533333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2845164356324469231.post-86567332087580851172023-10-13T15:57:00.007+01:002023-10-22T21:00:05.124+01:00Branco - CIV<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJfxt57PdSF-Ob7jc00cjVxpTPiO_4vtbEUJOJmDzpBZkHyJFkqDqMudIxe1syjBNiC-t693bNG9InrlHT5EsWYP7K33MpaNQfDp6_OAL0XoizVh-dRG2WjJiO1FmNC-x-zCTdI-tbdCiHng0-0NqQameVMAesoQCdRPfu-XQfBYQEzoRS5ULBV7ZVjRc/s3456/IMG_1206.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="3456" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJfxt57PdSF-Ob7jc00cjVxpTPiO_4vtbEUJOJmDzpBZkHyJFkqDqMudIxe1syjBNiC-t693bNG9InrlHT5EsWYP7K33MpaNQfDp6_OAL0XoizVh-dRG2WjJiO1FmNC-x-zCTdI-tbdCiHng0-0NqQameVMAesoQCdRPfu-XQfBYQEzoRS5ULBV7ZVjRc/w400-h266/IMG_1206.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Caribaci</div>caribacihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02300069411070533333noreply@blogger.com0