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6.2.04

"the essential is no longer visible" - Heiner Müller 

"the essential is no longer visible" - Heiner Müller

cena 1 - para f.
todas as madrugadas podiam ser assim. silenciosas, azuis, transparentes, com vozes de rádio ao fundo, sons suaves de carros a passar, luzes douradas da rua a entrarem-nos pela janela.

as noites podiam acabar mais cedo e os dias nascerem mais tarde. todas as madrugadas poderiam ser assim e se fossem, seríamos mais doces, teríamos asas.

cena 2
um dia a rádio voltará a ter programas de rádio.
por agora temos que esperar.
um dia a inteligência voltará à rádio.
um dia a inteligência voltará.
por agora, podemos olhar, aproveitar a pausa. sonhar. criar os momentos de som que vão nascer, um dia, na rádio.

Frederico Mira George - Saudades de Antero

5.2.04

Felicidade, infelicidade 

É tarde. O parque de estacionamento lá em baixo está quase vazio. As luzes são raras; e a Torre Eiffel miniatura ao fundo, equivalente no sentido oposto às «japonesices» do século XIX na Europa, tem apenas um pequeno ponto vermelho no topo.
Neste quarto banal, sem ligação com o passado e o futuro (e, por essa razão, está-se em posição vantajosa), a meio de um dia ou noite qualquer, o milagre que se opera subitamente, a graça que por vezes desce: não um instante de felicidade, pois esta não se conta por instantes, mas a consciência repentina de que ela nos habita. Os objectos que compõem a vida disposta de súbito noutra ordem voltam para nós o seu rosto prazenteiro. Transporte do espírito e dos sentidos (Baudelaire não se enganava), levitação durante a qual a alma flutua como numa nuvem de ouro. Assim, de avião, as impressionantes nuvens negras sob as quais a Terra abafa tornam-se, debaixo de nós, glaciares reluzentes brancos e azuis. Felicidade pura que noutros momentos poderia perfeitamente ser infelicidade. Bastaria que os mesmos elementos virassem para nós o seu rosto sombrio. Em ambos os casos, há plenitude, mas a da felicidade é solar.
A Torre Eiffel autêntica e o símile em Tóquio não passam de um cenário sob o qual o caos subsiste. Mas a felicidade, se acontece, confere brevemente um sentido às coisas: pelo menos uma parcela sente-se libertada, salva. Na infelicidade, na medida das nossas possibilidades, a coragem faz as vezes do Sol.

Marguerite Yourcenar, "Uma volta pela prisão"

Adagio for 'Landscape in the Mist 

Eleni Karaindrou, Adagio for 'Landscape in the Mist





Blue Stone 




© Laura Guerreiro

3.2.04

A grande onda 



fotografada por Gustave Le Gray entre 1856–59

© Metropolitan Museum of Art

Floresta de Fontainebleau 



fotografada por Gustave Le Gray entre 1849-52

© Metropolitan Museum of Art

Let the wind blow through your heart 

Cat Power, wild is the wind

30 de Novembro de 1998 (gravação de Sylvain Dubos)




1.2.04

Lomorolo_02_029 



© Mário Filipe Pires


10. Golden Hours 

The passage of time is flicking dimly upon the screen;
I can't see the lines I used to think I could read between.
Perhaps my brains have turned to sand.

Oh me oh my, I think it's been an eternity.
You'd be surprised at my degree of uncertainty.
How can moments go so slow?

Several times I've seen the evening slide away.
Watching the signs taking over from the fading day.
Perhaps my brains are old and scrambled ...

Several times I've seen the evening slide away.
Watching the signs taking over from the fading day.
Changing water into wine...

Several times I've seen the evening slide away.
Watching the signs taking over from the fading day.
Putting grapes back on the vine...

Who could believe what a poor set of eyes can show you?
Who would believe what an innocent voice could do?
Never a silence, always a face at the door

Who would believe what a poor set of ears can tell you?
Who would believe what a weak pair of hands can do?
Never a silence, always a foot in the door.

Brian Eno

Another_green_world_01 



© Mário Filipe Pires


dark, inky blue forest 

Brian Eno: ...the sound always suggests what kind of melody it should be. So it's always sound first and then the line afterwards. That's why I enjoy working with complicated equipment, because I can just set up a chain of things, like a lot of my things are started just with a rhythm box, but I feed it through so many things that what comes out often sounds very complex and rich, and as soon as I hear a sound it always suggests a mood to me. Now, most sounds that you get easily suggest moods that aren't very interesting; or have already been well-explored. But working this way, I often find that I'll get pictures. I'll say, 'This reminds me of . . . ,'; like 'In Dark Trees' on Another Green World : I can remember how that started and I can remember very clearly the image that I had which was this image of a dark, inky blue forest with moss hanging off and you could hear horses off in the distance all the time, these horses kind of neighing, whinnying . . .

Lester Bangs: Was this an image from your personal experience?

Brian Eno: No, it was just what the rhythm box suggested. You know, if you're in a forest the quality of the echo is very strange because echoes back off so many surfaces of all those trees that you get this strange itchy ricochet effect.

Musician, 1979

Another_green_world_06 



© Mário Filipe Pires


13. Everything Merges With the Night 

Rosalie, I've been waiting all evening
Possibly years, I don't know.
Counting the passing hours
Everything merges with the night.

I stand on the beach, giving out descriptions
Different for everyone I see.
Since I just can't remember
Longer than last September.

Santiago, under the volcano,
Floats like a cushion on the sea.
Yet I can never sleep here
Everything ponders in the night.

Rosalie, we've been talking all summer
Picking the straw from our clothes.
See how the breeze has softened
Everything pauses in the night.

Brian Eno, Another Green World

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