Monday, 1 November 2010
20:00 |
| Foto I: "Rette deine Seele", que significa Salve sua Alma em alemão |
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| Foto II: Um livro escrito em alemão que eu definitivamente quase afanei de uma igreja (I know, but don't look me like this) que tinah que estar abandonada: ou é uma Bíblia Luterana, ou, pelos meus findings na internet, Martin Luthers Leben und sein Werk, algo como "A vida e Trabalho de Martinho Lutero". Eu queria de qualquer jeito... |
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| Foto III: nonsense. A mão feiosa da Amanda, com essa aliança unglücklich metida na foto. |
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| Foto IV: Jardim lindo da Fluss Haus. |
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| Foto V: Own, como eu descobri só depois, vem a ser um poema do Vinicius de Moraes, desenhado em uma parede da K.S. |
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| Foto VI: uma das caixinhas em estilo provençal da K.S. |
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| Foto VII: placa/fachada da K.S. |
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| Foto VIII: as flores-pirulitos! As coisas mais lindas e absurdas, que eu e a Aícha ficamos [mouth] agape quando vimos. |
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| Foto IX: da esquerda pra direita: Oblomow, von Ivan Alexandrovitch Gontcharov Ungarische Rhapsodie ("Rapsódia Húngara"), von Zsolt Harsanyi Alle Menschen werden Brüder ("Todos os Homens são Irmãos"), von Johannes Mario Simmel Die Krone für ein Lied ("A Coroa de uma Música"), von Ira Morris (os dois próximos: impossíveis de enxergar) Die Flut des Lebens: Geschichtliche Erzählungen (A maré da vida: Narrativas Históricas.), von Adolf Ernst Verwehte Träume ("Sonhos Esparsos"), von Stanislaw Dygat |
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| Foto X: esquerda pra direita, identificáveis: Kim, von Rudyard Kipling ***, von Marie Louise Fischer Menschliche Komödie ("Menschliche Komödie"), von William Saroyan Die ewige Herde ("A banda Eterna/O Bando Eterno"), von Arthur-Heinz Lehmann Vampir, von *** Tiefer Süden ("Sul Profundo"), von Gwen Bristow Wyoming, von *** |
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| Foto XI: esq/dir: Keine Anhaltspunkte ("Não Há Provas"), von Hannsferdinand Döbler von Wegner Denn keiner ist ohne Schuld ("Para o Oscar"), von Anne Rocken von Pallotti-Verl. Sydney-London Erster Klasse ("Sidney a Londres de Primeira Classe", von John R. Wilson Jerusalem, von Selma Lagerlöf. |
E chega por agora, porque cansei!
Information
Here is where I'm free. Free to write, free to think. I'm all by myself, all to myself. Only me. I can shout my fucks and cry my Oh Gods. Look to my madness or say "who are you?" Today, I fell connected. Tomorrow, maybe not. Maybe I'm too worried with other things, someone is here with me. Maybe inspiration didn't hit me. My most important thoughts (to me) come to me when I'm far away from notepads and notebooks, but close to myself. That's what this is made of.
useful links
Home, sweet home
Michaelis
Macmillan
diccionario real academia española
Fanfiction.net
Stumbleupon!
skoob
series download, yep
About
We are all alone, born alone, die alone, and -- in spite of True Romance magazines -- we shall all someday look
back on our lives and see that, in spite of our company, we were alone the whole way. I do not say lonely -- at
least, not all the time -- but essentially, and finally, alone. This is what makes your self-respect so important,
and I don't see how you can respect yourself if you must look in the hearts and minds of others for your
happiness.
— Hunter S. Thompsonthe months passed by...
January 2010,
February 2010,
March 2010,
April 2010,
May 2010,
June 2010,
July 2010,
August 2010,
September 2010,
October 2010,
November 2010,
December 2010,
Credits
(This awesome layout isn't mine. I got if from CREATE BLOG, and made my adjustments.) ------
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