Archives: Órgão de Grafia

There are days that don’t end, there are days when sleep doesn’t come. There are days that slowly diffuse on other days and dreams are stolen. There are weeks that are days, confusing the calendar of human reason. And when…

In a while It will get dark, It will seem That collapsed The ceiling of the world … And I can do nothing. In the silence Of the Waiting Take my hand. It’s yours until the end. It’s yours. Another…

The moon caught fire tonight. Has its own light and illuminates lost causes. Today is not goddess neither satellite, not old, neither young. Tired of showing the same face as ever, she undresses for those who want to see her…

Image of the first edition in catalan of the flyers Summer poems, of the Season poems collection, for the the performance Cordel by Teresa Santos / Poeta de Gandia.

Words are not definitive: their meaning, spelling or composition. A capital word may suddenly lose importance and become small. If there is a hierarchy in words. Words should not be read or heard as absolute truths. Words are not tattoos.

A boat under the sea is always a disaster, no boat was born to sink. However, when it is crossed by time, there is a beauty in it that comes from catastrophe. Time changes the look of things.

There is an open window that does not close. A breeze that disturbs the sight that does not end. Beyond, in infinity, the tangible dream subjects itself to the impermanence of days and nights. Time passes, absorbed in the illusion…

From day to day I see my hand grow and the cells that multiply in this ode to the triumph of life. From day to day I see my foot growing, and the paths I have gone before have now…

Each step as a fractal path that unfolds in the desert underfoot. Little by little. A diamond is nothing more than a survival mechanism. Yesterday is thousands of years. I wait for you next to a round stone. I wonder…

[Sorry, only available in portuguese] #prólogo Eu tive a grande sorte de conhecer o Sr. Roque. #introdução Armando Roque não era, de todo, um homem comum. Nas algibeiras trazia espanto e admiração pelas coisas do mundo – qualidades que partilhava…

At the end of the party, meditation consists of cleaning the mouths of the drunken and revealing glasses, served at the meal. For the more ingrained dirt the nails are used and, sometimes, the forgiveness…

Back to top