<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989</id><updated>2012-02-16T09:32:35.238Z</updated><title type='text'>observai o observador observado*</title><subtitle type='html'>(*W. Burroughs) 



BLOG de Jorge Tiago Martins

[comentários e sugestões para jorgetiagomartins@hotmail.com]</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>209</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-6101813016969283076</id><published>2008-08-21T14:01:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2008-08-21T14:20:33.106+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Danses Hongroises</title><summary type='text'>Não sei por que acontece, mas é como se na descoberta do antigo vivessem múltiplas partes de mim, que não cumpri (que culpa tenho, dos lapsos do tempo?), mas que incorporo episodicamente. Então há caracteres que sobrevêm, tons que se afinam e imagens que se alinham e configuram. É uma tela tão plástica e é de uma materialidade táctil que seduz. O prazer do resgate desta imagery sonora e </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/6101813016969283076/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=6101813016969283076' title='43 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/6101813016969283076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/6101813016969283076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2008/08/danses-hongroises.html' title='Danses Hongroises'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>43</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-1906216277943723178</id><published>2008-08-11T13:12:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2008-09-24T18:15:52.260+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Wanderlust</title><summary type='text'>SW 08  the very best moment of my summeronly weeks before I left to a new harbour.vou sempre recordar a festa, sempre a festa de estar contigo, o riso e o sorriso.  as vozes entrecortadas por luz musical de incontida alegria.                  "Lust for comfort suffocates the soulThis relentless restlessness liberates my soul." | Bjork</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/1906216277943723178/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=1906216277943723178' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/1906216277943723178'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/1906216277943723178'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2008/08/wanderlust.html' title='Wanderlust'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-2894946160395528017</id><published>2008-08-10T15:29:00.007+01:00</published><updated>2008-09-24T18:05:21.269+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Sheffield</title><summary type='text'>Cambridge Street looking towards Wellington Street and Moorhead, 1960-63; No 44, R.J. Stokes &amp; Co. Ltd., Paint Manufacturers; No 52, Nell's Bar and the Hippodrome. Had I lived there in the 1960's and this would be the landscape picture of my daily routine. But this is all about a much improved and wider geography. Yes, and it is also about the city where I chose live for the next three years, </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/2894946160395528017/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=2894946160395528017' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/2894946160395528017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/2894946160395528017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2008/08/sheffield.html' title='Sheffield'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YOTlFx2k-b8/SJ8DBXkH5II/AAAAAAAAAL4/jiEkfpaQgtI/s72-c/s14015.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-3033774476712459117</id><published>2008-08-10T15:10:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2008-08-10T15:20:21.207+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Café Arcada</title><summary type='text'>At first, we would say there was a band playing in the background.But surely that wasn't the most significant feature of the moment.Enchanted, we were, with how easily the city spread itself into that square - arches around, a church on top - And, suspending its movement because of the heatIts people searched shadows only and the freshness of quiet spacesTo recover senses and live again.Now it </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/3033774476712459117/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=3033774476712459117' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/3033774476712459117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/3033774476712459117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2008/08/caf-arcada.html' title='Café Arcada'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YOTlFx2k-b8/SJ74mOHtgkI/AAAAAAAAALg/RoEXAPsLOLA/s72-c/IMG0084A.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-5766760256242355778</id><published>2008-08-10T14:42:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2008-08-10T14:59:43.105+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Citrus</title><summary type='text'>The lemon tree does not stand still.I dream of its early reddish leavesAnd the tree is already in motionLater turning to green.The lemon tree does not stand still.I feel its dotted peelAs an ample molecular skin, Wondering: can we reverse the process, from yellow to green?The lemon tree does not stand still,Acid seedless fruits grow thick, back in the terrace.Uniform yellow in colour, they are </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/5766760256242355778/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=5766760256242355778' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/5766760256242355778'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/5766760256242355778'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2008/08/citrus.html' title='Citrus'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_YOTlFx2k-b8/SJ7wegN8XZI/AAAAAAAAALY/JFKtRenrhtc/s72-c/IMG0076A.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-435631689460107074</id><published>2008-06-27T20:55:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2008-06-27T21:22:12.142+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Live life on a sunnier day</title><summary type='text'>encontro em ti, Japão, a ousadia da luminescência solarque nasce.convexa presença do que me habituei a ver, caracter de um alfabeto que desenho sem saber ler.a Ocidente de ti, Japão, sonhando transmuto-me nos teus rostos brancos de existências escondidas entre biombos nambam.destilo chás imperiais de ambições ambivalentes:a de ser a solidez dos teus templosa de ter para mim, guardada nos nós das </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/435631689460107074/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=435631689460107074' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/435631689460107074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/435631689460107074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2008/06/live-life-on-sunnier-day.html' title='Live life on a sunnier day'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YOTlFx2k-b8/SGVL6QGvEPI/AAAAAAAAALQ/T7yBcqDFSXo/s72-c/japan_kiku.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-4598616240402699110</id><published>2008-05-21T20:34:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2008-05-21T20:47:32.388+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Global Positioning System</title><summary type='text'>&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  Avoir une destination. N’avoir q’une destination. N’avoir aucune destination.  Não acredito em predestinação, mas acredito na escolha dos meus destinos intermédios, das minhas passagens pela superfície ou profundeza dos lugares e das coisas. Ultimately, who knows where I’ll be?  Acontece-me por isso precisar sempre de um certo sentido de en passant, mesmo que eu seja este </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/4598616240402699110/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=4598616240402699110' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/4598616240402699110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/4598616240402699110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2008/05/global-positioning-system.html' title='Global Positioning System'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-4968255650372040611</id><published>2008-05-14T21:07:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2008-05-14T21:42:25.372+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Open Culture</title><summary type='text'>Encyclopedia Britannica is offering free access to the complete online encyclopedia to web publishers. I was lucky enough to get hold of a subscription and am delighted to praise such an  innovative and democratizing initiative. Certainly a landmark in the webculture and an important step in ensuring access to trustable reference contents. One of my first searches, randomly picked, I admit (and I</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/4968255650372040611/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=4968255650372040611' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/4968255650372040611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/4968255650372040611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2008/05/open-culture.html' title='Open Culture'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YOTlFx2k-b8/SCtOQbPdi9I/AAAAAAAAALI/11DCNyXOgd4/s72-c/10044+Encyclopaedia+Britannica.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-2613215363157742725</id><published>2008-05-10T22:05:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2008-05-10T22:23:10.697+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Felicific Calculus</title><summary type='text'>"Talvez até pudesse dar-te maisQue tudo o que tu possas desejarNão te debruces tanto, que ainda caisNão sei se me estás a acompanhar".cette chanson est la négation de l'expression utilitaire de l'amour.se cálculo eficaz houvesse, sob a lua, só existiria o princípio do prazer./Rádio Macau | Cantiga d'Amor | 8 | 2008/</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/2613215363157742725/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=2613215363157742725' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/2613215363157742725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/2613215363157742725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2008/05/felicific-calculus.html' title='Felicific Calculus'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-5914237621897979986</id><published>2008-05-10T21:41:00.008+01:00</published><updated>2008-05-10T21:56:42.781+01:00</updated><title type='text'>portrait contemporain #1 | au travail</title><summary type='text'>Memories of the successful International Conference (April 2008). For future remembrance only.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/5914237621897979986/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=5914237621897979986' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/5914237621897979986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/5914237621897979986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2008/05/portraits-contemporains-1-au-travail.html' title='portrait contemporain #1 | au travail'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_YOTlFx2k-b8/SCYJM-Vjk8I/AAAAAAAAAK4/JBNDpBn-xjQ/s72-c/1111.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-8081837496957184913</id><published>2008-05-10T21:08:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2008-05-10T21:15:35.692+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Soon, so soon</title><summary type='text'>I will walk these streets and be part of                            the living frame</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/8081837496957184913/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=8081837496957184913' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/8081837496957184913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/8081837496957184913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2008/05/soon-so-soon.html' title='Soon, so soon'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YOTlFx2k-b8/SCYCJOVjk7I/AAAAAAAAAKw/hO1UxnPiQCU/s72-c/shef.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-8029352787757171017</id><published>2008-05-10T20:44:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2008-05-10T21:06:54.694+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Hoje, no mercado</title><summary type='text'>Há, no mercado, a ancestralidade da troca, o encontro primário de todos nós com a necessidade e a sua superação, pela compra ou pela venda.Hoje, no mercado, mais do que as compras ou o recorte de um qualquer olhar etnográfico, houve contormos de realidade que me inquietaram. Os contornos de uma sociedade tão pobre. Retratos de um capitalismo de miséria, velhos curvados, sem dentes, enegrecidos e </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/8029352787757171017/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=8029352787757171017' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/8029352787757171017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/8029352787757171017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2008/05/hoje-no-mercado.html' title='Hoje, no mercado'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YOTlFx2k-b8/SCX_7eVjk6I/AAAAAAAAAKo/GJ4RKp4JdPY/s72-c/oldmarket.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-1856039605877790293</id><published>2008-04-21T20:49:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2008-04-21T21:24:25.683+01:00</updated><title type='text'>The mountains still high, yet something is different</title><summary type='text'>as montanhas eram altas e de um verde que o país azul atlânticonão deixa em justiça pronunciar.entrei como quem caminha numa twilight zoneonde labirínticos jardins serpenteavam em torno da casa de água.no interior veludos de Fellinicandeeiros de época, salas de fumo e um drink.ao longo dos corredores de mármoreuma música improvável tocava. unlikely and unexpected, almost surreal but incredibly </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/1856039605877790293/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=1856039605877790293' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/1856039605877790293'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/1856039605877790293'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2008/04/mountains-still-high-yet-something-is.html' title='The mountains still high, yet something is different'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YOTlFx2k-b8/SAz09KaGfGI/AAAAAAAAAKI/AsSF9-5Dml8/s72-c/IMG0010A.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-1463614376084359282</id><published>2008-04-18T21:18:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2008-04-18T21:44:27.332+01:00</updated><title type='text'>paradise</title><summary type='text'>perguntaram-me hoje como tudo começa.e eu gostava de dizer que tudo é um eterno paraíso, de cores fuchsia, intermitentes e intermináveis de felicidade.mas em cada fulgor de início, há high e há down. that i surely know, for i have lived. up to the skies, down to the ground.vivermos suspensos dos paraísos uns dos outros é conhecermos a impossibilidade de fazer coincidir princípio e fim. ser feliz </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/1463614376084359282/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=1463614376084359282' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/1463614376084359282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/1463614376084359282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2008/04/paradise.html' title='paradise'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-653687522367713445</id><published>2008-03-03T17:40:00.002Z</published><updated>2008-03-03T17:54:14.492Z</updated><title type='text'>What does it take to be an extraordinary machine?</title><summary type='text'>- Capacity of dissent (extraordinary gives way to innovation and new paths of unknown enterprises);- Absortion and diffusion of new forms of enlightnenment;- Ability to perform passionately;- Will to resist (steadily in the defence of your programme) and yet to progressively reform and induce change in views, perceptions and ways of envisioning life.Today I only wished for these hands:/ Beethoven</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/653687522367713445/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=653687522367713445' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/653687522367713445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/653687522367713445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2008/03/what-does-it-take-to-be-extraordinary.html' title='What does it take to be an extraordinary machine?'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-518355669588763514</id><published>2008-02-22T22:16:00.004Z</published><updated>2008-02-22T22:36:18.542Z</updated><title type='text'>L'archeologie du savoir #2</title><summary type='text'>"but he is an intellectual too, who needs the stimulation of cities, imperfect though they are" .                       /Theodore Zeldin, An Intimate History of Humanity/There is absurdity in stillness. Imperfect as I am, I can only exist amid clouds (moments) of urbanity and euphoria.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/518355669588763514/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=518355669588763514' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/518355669588763514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/518355669588763514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2008/02/larcheologie-du-savoir-2.html' title='L&apos;archeologie du savoir #2'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YOTlFx2k-b8/R79L5bALBVI/AAAAAAAAAKA/z108Fh1nlrE/s72-c/ic-sl-iconografia.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-8825851732173624470</id><published>2008-02-22T21:59:00.003Z</published><updated>2008-02-22T22:11:48.053Z</updated><title type='text'>Viola da gamba</title><summary type='text'>Improvisando as foliesPorque do insano se faz o nexode todas as manhãs do mundo./Toutes les matins du Monde - Improvisations sur les folies/</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/8825851732173624470/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=8825851732173624470' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/8825851732173624470'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/8825851732173624470'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2008/02/viola-da-gamba.html' title='Viola da gamba'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-8023058675801926185</id><published>2008-02-17T10:22:00.003Z</published><updated>2008-02-17T10:27:00.778Z</updated><title type='text'>L'archeologie du savoir #1</title><summary type='text'>Disce Doce (learn &amp; teach)     Further deep knowledge lies always ahead. </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/8023058675801926185/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=8023058675801926185' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/8023058675801926185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/8023058675801926185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2008/02/larcheologie-du-savoir-1.html' title='L&apos;archeologie du savoir #1'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YOTlFx2k-b8/R7gLsLALBUI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/CuydNcnnvdU/s72-c/impressos-imagem.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-597790533397445404</id><published>2008-02-08T20:39:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-02-08T21:01:30.634Z</updated><title type='text'>Ah, Cecilia</title><summary type='text'>  Este disco é uma jóia que se ostenta em glória. (the whole package is luxury, o CD é objecto cultural detalhado, completo, que se escuta, lê e palpa. tudo é encenação, preparada para adoração de Maria Malibran, the public godess of Romanticism. Tudo é eco dos veludos sumptuosos dos teatros opráticos, drama trágico da existência de Maria Malibran, a jovem diva tornada mito, cantada pela </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/597790533397445404/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=597790533397445404' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/597790533397445404'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/597790533397445404'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2008/02/ah-cecilia.html' title='Ah, Cecilia'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YOTlFx2k-b8/R6zCYSkZ1II/AAAAAAAAAJw/748YghzHe84/s72-c/1_med.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-7702521302316586562</id><published>2008-02-08T19:57:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-02-08T20:11:55.465Z</updated><title type='text'>The Community of Democracies</title><summary type='text'>The genius of democracy is based on one idea: every person counts. - Madeleine AlbrightThe Community of Democracies was created in 2000 when 106 nations, meeting in Warsaw, committed to what would become the Warsaw Declaration. Signatary nations agreed to respect and uphold core democratic principles and practices including, among others, free and fair elections, freedom of speech and expression,</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/7702521302316586562/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=7702521302316586562' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/7702521302316586562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/7702521302316586562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2008/02/community-of-democracies.html' title='The Community of Democracies'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-166759247551429330</id><published>2008-02-08T19:07:00.001Z</published><updated>2008-02-08T19:46:03.650Z</updated><title type='text'>Kalevala</title><summary type='text'>  The book cover is blue, not the oceanic blue, but that shimmery blue that surrounds coastal islands and gently meets mainland sandy shores. I have said it to myself and others many times. Many seas I've seen, many cities I've visited, but nothing nears the uncomparable harmonious link between the Baltic and my Northern spiritual homecountry, Finland.  Finland's collective soul was revealed to </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/166759247551429330/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=166759247551429330' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/166759247551429330'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/166759247551429330'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2008/02/kalevala.html' title='Kalevala'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_YOTlFx2k-b8/R6yuoykZ1FI/AAAAAAAAAJY/nRXawJE5oaU/s72-c/imagem.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-8605942784066440324</id><published>2008-01-31T09:49:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-01-31T09:51:34.268Z</updated><title type='text'>bofetada proverbial | take #1</title><summary type='text'>(ouvido algures e prontamente assimilado, porque a sabedoria está nas coisas simples)A vida é dura para quem é mole.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/8605942784066440324/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=8605942784066440324' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/8605942784066440324'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/8605942784066440324'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2008/01/bofetada-proverbial-take-1.html' title='bofetada proverbial | take #1'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-3460967498331398478</id><published>2008-01-30T21:26:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-01-30T22:04:57.431Z</updated><title type='text'>Zeit</title><summary type='text'>Que vestígio há da temporalidade, no objecto que tão vincadamente a marca? Tenho uma obsessão por relógios, mas a relação que estabeleço com o artefacto é uma mística tensional.  Tenho, por exemplo, um relógio de parede. Parado, porque me esqueço de lhe dar corda. E persegue-me, das sombras coloridas da infância, o desejo de ter um relógio de cuco.  Depois, houve um período da minha vida em que </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/3460967498331398478/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=3460967498331398478' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/3460967498331398478'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/3460967498331398478'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2008/01/zeit.html' title='Zeit'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YOTlFx2k-b8/R6D0YCkZ1EI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/DzNzljg80pw/s72-c/ConsumerElginWatches.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-1051160403065605952</id><published>2008-01-22T08:30:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-01-22T08:41:00.365Z</updated><title type='text'>this is the life</title><summary type='text'>cada dia sucede-se como uma canção que toca ou canta mesmo,e a cada dia essa canção surge e entoa mais altocomo um aviso de que há na vida perigos váriosemoções tantas e gestões difíceisdesejos que crescem, outros que se reprimemo que nos acontece, do acordar ao deitarsão episódios de conciliação.(mas, em que momento nos reconciliamose somos átomos aquecidos de harmonia, se tudo em volta é guerra</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/1051160403065605952/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=1051160403065605952' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/1051160403065605952'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/1051160403065605952'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2008/01/this-is-life.html' title='this is the life'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-5271340111066286899</id><published>2008-01-05T17:58:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-01-05T19:03:37.310Z</updated><title type='text'>S. Paulo</title><summary type='text'>"Se depender de mim, nunca ficareiplenamente maduro nem nas idéiasnem no estilo, mas sempre verdeincompleto, experimental".Tempo morto e outros tempos; Gilberto FreyreI want to be the innocent naif traveller, whose journey is always inauguralto try over and again the ever green fruit of discovery inner renewalin and outwardsthat is the empowering joy of travelwhile crossing the streetswhile </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/5271340111066286899/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=5271340111066286899' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/5271340111066286899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/5271340111066286899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2008/01/s-paulo.html' title='S. Paulo'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YOTlFx2k-b8/R3_LfewLLQI/AAAAAAAAAII/1N-91Qmus-c/s72-c/flag-Brazil-SaoPaulo.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-2930223742780085190</id><published>2007-12-19T22:49:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-12-19T23:10:27.648Z</updated><title type='text'>Detesto recomeçar</title><summary type='text'>porque recomeçar implica o reconhecimento de uma falta e de uma ausênciae talvez por isso me seja mais fácil aceitar a descontinuidade (e deixá-la crescer selvaticamente como urtigas por sobre os baldios) do que admiti-la e, ainda por cima, assiná-la, subscrevê-la, rubricá-la com o íntimo de mim.talvez o problema seja o do nome. e então no meu breviário este não é um recomeço. recomeçar é </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/2930223742780085190/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=2930223742780085190' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/2930223742780085190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/2930223742780085190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2007/12/detesto-recomear.html' title='Detesto recomeçar'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-5652594602417794003</id><published>2007-11-08T17:08:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-11-08T17:32:03.678Z</updated><title type='text'>Clicquot</title><summary type='text'>Strange and familiar, the way brain processes and crosses references. I wish I could once understand this multi-referential process (maybe understanding it undermines the charm and fascinating essence) tying up emotions, facts and sights.Clicquot &amp; CliquotIn my brain they were one and the same. Yet they are different.The fact is that Clicquot stands for a prestigous champagne brand. The producer </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/5652594602417794003/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=5652594602417794003' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/5652594602417794003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/5652594602417794003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2007/11/clicquot.html' title='Clicquot'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YOTlFx2k-b8/RzNGVGhrn2I/AAAAAAAAAIA/zNN_ckkZFBA/s72-c/label.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-6632052700853989424</id><published>2007-11-03T23:24:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-11-03T23:33:29.086Z</updated><title type='text'>Let the seasons begin</title><summary type='text'>I am no longer afraid of life. So I became bohemian in a certain sense.I let myself be driven by the many forms, facets and geometries of enjoyment.I enjoy bits and bits of this and that day, and my life becomes the happy sum of those bits.Let the seasons begin, I say confidently. Let the elements shake me and the unexpected thrill me.And it all has the the rhythm and melody of a loud triumphant </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/6632052700853989424/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=6632052700853989424' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/6632052700853989424'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/6632052700853989424'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2007/11/let-seasons-begin.html' title='Let the seasons begin'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-824856041015427248</id><published>2007-11-03T23:06:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-11-03T23:21:22.360Z</updated><title type='text'>Decent work for a decent life</title><summary type='text'>The ILO held its international forum in Lisbon under the topic "Decent Work for a Fair Globalization". I had the priviledge to take part in what was intended to be a broad social platform for discussing the forging of a new movement for promoting decent work.The Forum gathered 300 representatives of the ILO tripartite social partners – governments, workers and employers – as well as </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/824856041015427248/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=824856041015427248' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/824856041015427248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/824856041015427248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2007/11/decent-work-for-decent-life.html' title='Decent work for a decent life'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_YOTlFx2k-b8/Ry0CTQRSACI/AAAAAAAAAH4/Wn40tDBqy5Q/s72-c/forum3.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-4570095905709008803</id><published>2007-11-01T20:19:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-11-01T21:01:15.888Z</updated><title type='text'>Putin's Russia in Lisbon</title><summary type='text'>These days have been crazy and wild in Lisbon. Politicians, the media and civil society new actors are in absolute frenzy, trying to make the most of this unique moment - the six month presidency of the Council of Europe Portugal holds until December.I must say I am an admirer of the Portuguese massive diplomatic efforts and the brilliantism and professionalism transparent in every act, political</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/4570095905709008803/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=4570095905709008803' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/4570095905709008803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/4570095905709008803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2007/11/putins-russia-in-lisbon.html' title='Putin&apos;s Russia in Lisbon'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YOTlFx2k-b8/Ryo-IwRSABI/AAAAAAAAAHw/49tVIBxND0c/s72-c/af044f11-c561-4f5c-b8c3-ff1cde43d2b7.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-2903005518159517904</id><published>2007-10-18T18:56:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-10-18T19:16:18.374+01:00</updated><title type='text'>The Praise of Folly</title><summary type='text'>(light and shadow, velvet and blade, the game of contrasts is about to begin. Vive la Fête's "Jour de Chance" is the sensualist revivalism of nonsensical tender bitterness. A great album, coherent in its lunatic intentions. A must.) "ma ma ma ma ma ma ma ma ma ma ma ma ma (6x)what you wadie wadie wantwhat you wadie wadie wantwhat you wadie wadie wantwhat you wadie wadie wantma ma ma ma ma ma ma </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/2903005518159517904/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=2903005518159517904' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/2903005518159517904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/2903005518159517904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2007/10/praise-of-folly.html' title='The Praise of Folly'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_YOTlFx2k-b8/Rxeg2kzf8KI/AAAAAAAAAHo/EssFY_HCwLw/s72-c/891437.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-2037479233311931767</id><published>2007-10-11T11:50:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-10-11T11:55:01.246+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Thoughts at the subway</title><summary type='text'>The greatest existentialist experiences lie with the most absolute normality.Consider going through a hard work day. Consider returning home and entering the subway. Sit down. Close your eyes. It is just you and a few eyes staring at you. You are exposed in all your tiredness. But you don’t care.The subway speeds up and runs along galleries and stations, at a rhythm you expect because you are </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/2037479233311931767/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=2037479233311931767' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/2037479233311931767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/2037479233311931767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2007/10/thoughts-at-subway.html' title='Thoughts at the subway'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-9190204676815439149</id><published>2007-10-04T14:49:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-10-04T14:59:38.378+01:00</updated><title type='text'>il etait temps #2</title><summary type='text'>de, numa correria apressada entre a Rua da Conceição e a Praça do Comércio, deter-me por instantes e abster-me do tempo e da pressa, para encontrar entre as mãos o calor queimado de uma dúzia de castanhas assadas.custam 2 euros, que não pagam as mãos sujas de quem as vende, o invólucro enrolado e amarelo e o sabor da estação.truly the joy of the season.[the american chestnut society]</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/9190204676815439149/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=9190204676815439149' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/9190204676815439149'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/9190204676815439149'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2007/10/il-etait-temps.html' title='il etait temps #2'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YOTlFx2k-b8/RwTxZ0zf8JI/AAAAAAAAAHg/_Cbsd91drY0/s72-c/chestnut.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-7184906321513592525</id><published>2007-10-04T14:30:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-10-04T14:46:53.005+01:00</updated><title type='text'>The green grass fields within</title><summary type='text'>ontem, passei pela primeira vez na Rua da Esperança. Fica em Santos.Quero esta toponímia para mim, pensei. É no mínimo um desafio ao pessimismo alheio poder dizer que se mora na Rua da Esperança.ontem, ao passar pela primeira vez na Rua da Esperança, senti-me verde por dentro.Ana Dores (2007) "Green Fields"</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/7184906321513592525/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=7184906321513592525' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/7184906321513592525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/7184906321513592525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2007/10/green-grass-fields-within.html' title='The green grass fields within'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YOTlFx2k-b8/RwTtF0zf8II/AAAAAAAAAHY/5GrE82jKEZk/s72-c/green_fields.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-7869087426564850018</id><published>2007-10-04T14:14:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-10-04T14:24:16.194+01:00</updated><title type='text'>il etait temps # 1</title><summary type='text'>«Quinzena da camisa com manga»(letreiro visto hoje, na montra de uma loja do Chiado) </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/7869087426564850018/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=7869087426564850018' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/7869087426564850018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/7869087426564850018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2007/10/il-etait-temps-1.html' title='il etait temps # 1'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YOTlFx2k-b8/RwTpM0zf8HI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/G0HNnopfucY/s72-c/chem.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-3630223128479513058</id><published>2007-10-03T17:20:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-10-03T17:52:47.364+01:00</updated><title type='text'>a question of biology</title><summary type='text'>I happened to discover the key to human diversity in a management book, which describes how companies operate the transition (and this is indeed an endogenous process) from being average companies to great companies. The book is Good to Great: Why Some Companies Make the Leap... and Others Don'tMaybe I'll get to know the genetic code for success, that was my initial interest when I first was </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/3630223128479513058/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=3630223128479513058' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/3630223128479513058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/3630223128479513058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2007/10/question-of-biology.html' title='a question of biology'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-3973935704478743650</id><published>2007-09-29T17:03:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-09-29T19:46:33.238+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Words of wisdom</title><summary type='text'>Outside is raining. That kind of rain not heavy enough to keep you home the entire weekend, but still irrestibly inviting to profit from the home's warmth and comfort. I make myself some coffee.I now drink it with cinnamon. A cinnamon stick adds my coffee character and intensity. It adds notes of brown to its natural darkness. No sugar added.Too bad I don't have a fireplace. I would light it even</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/3973935704478743650/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=3973935704478743650' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/3973935704478743650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/3973935704478743650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2007/09/words-of-wisdom.html' title='Words of wisdom'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_YOTlFx2k-b8/Rv55b0zf8GI/AAAAAAAAAHI/TojJH8MpjnU/s72-c/Afternoon-CoffeeBreak3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-8122621316018666739</id><published>2007-09-28T20:42:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-09-28T21:23:55.274+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Jour de chance</title><summary type='text'>One of these days, while walking randomly Lisbon's streets, I happened to find an open air book market. It literally made my day and, to my great surprise I found some quite good books that overcome in quality what you generally expect to find in such a place. Of course the ambiance is always fascinating, treasure hunt like, with loads of people trying to make their way into the different stands.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/8122621316018666739/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=8122621316018666739' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/8122621316018666739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/8122621316018666739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2007/09/jour-de-chance.html' title='Jour de chance'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YOTlFx2k-b8/Rv1dQUzf8EI/AAAAAAAAAG4/-iP3_YFQbO0/s72-c/bookcover1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-1810787899737299945</id><published>2007-09-27T15:22:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-09-27T15:37:50.487+01:00</updated><title type='text'>old school ventilator</title><summary type='text'>Bem sei (será que também o sentiram) que já não é Verão, mas a ilusão holográfica e térmica deste sol português mantém-nos contentes e desejantes de um Verão ilusório perpétuo. Fosse ele ao menos capaz de manter as ideias quentes e os pensamentos confluentes...Here, at work, devemos achar que ainda é Verão, pois instalou-se entre todos uma rotina de difícil desabituação. Temos, entre nós, uma </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/1810787899737299945/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=1810787899737299945' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/1810787899737299945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/1810787899737299945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2007/09/old-school-ventilator.html' title='old school ventilator'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YOTlFx2k-b8/RvvAGEzf8DI/AAAAAAAAAGw/wLgG91FhWiY/s72-c/sem+t%C3%ADtulo.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-6636386105339446835</id><published>2007-09-26T16:59:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-09-26T17:22:06.896+01:00</updated><title type='text'>bureau with a view over the avenue</title><summary type='text'>so my yesterday's meeting went well beyond my brightest definition of good.and it made me, as usual, do a lot of rethinking on what I should be doing professionally. (i think, and i think, and i think, especially in bed...)don't please think i am a snob, accostumed only to the bureaucrats' luxury and wellbeing. I had a taste of that in Brussels and it can indeed be addictive, while at the same </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/6636386105339446835/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=6636386105339446835' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/6636386105339446835'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/6636386105339446835'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2007/09/bureau-with-view-over-avenue.html' title='bureau with a view over the avenue'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_YOTlFx2k-b8/RvqFj0zf8CI/AAAAAAAAAGo/8B8__pskDYM/s72-c/av.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-6410869653323021225</id><published>2007-09-24T19:43:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-09-24T19:59:41.628+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Excessivamente Musical | cronica de um regresso a casa |</title><summary type='text'>Yes, completely obsessed today, as if any chapter of these hours (which sum up a single day) had to match the perfect soundtrack.Lovely, this pass time of mine. Not hard at all. Every picture of my day fits into a music scale or dimension. Right now, "Outro Futuro", by Balla. I randomly discovered them, but their sound is addictive and genuinely powerful.What could this exact choice mean, for now</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/6410869653323021225/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=6410869653323021225' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/6410869653323021225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/6410869653323021225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2007/09/excessivamente-musical-cronica-de-um.html' title='Excessivamente Musical | cronica de um regresso a casa |'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-8113041991174382574</id><published>2007-09-24T14:39:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2007-09-24T15:03:01.430+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Well done, Euclid</title><summary type='text'>I had to get this praising session started, much because I absolutely feel every word I am about to say.Lisbon's Euclid Workshop - Leadership for a New Europe: The Third Sector Solution - was a smashing success, especially because it revealled Portuguese stakeholders' weakenesses and general - or, should I say, beyond rational explanation - fear of any networking or innovation attempt. It also </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/8113041991174382574/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=8113041991174382574' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/8113041991174382574'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/8113041991174382574'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2007/09/well-done-euclid.html' title='Well done, Euclid'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YOTlFx2k-b8/RvfDfUzf8BI/AAAAAAAAAFg/f7qLH29n07k/s72-c/Euclid%2520logo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-3921212909209349111</id><published>2007-09-24T14:25:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-09-24T14:29:55.488+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Not a new song. Not a new video.</title><summary type='text'>Refreshingly bitter, yet delicious.Go &amp; see where this place is, there, in your viewer expectations, in the back of your mind. Certainly by the sea. Certainly the scene is a hotel room. And then a runaway piece. I used to think some of my favourite book pages were those of Marguerite Duras: characters sitting in rooms, windows covered in thick curtains, blinders denying the light. I couldn’t help</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/3921212909209349111/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=3921212909209349111' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/3921212909209349111'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/3921212909209349111'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2007/09/not-new-song-not-new-video.html' title='Not a new song. Not a new video.'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-7507658934414678872</id><published>2007-09-20T11:45:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2007-09-20T12:07:04.313+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Setembro</title><summary type='text'>A folha do calendário ditou, na alternância regular de dois anos - dois; 2; IIQue Setembro seria o mês da partidaPara mim, claro, porque a Setembro está colado, como folha ainda não amarelecida pelo ventoo código dos regressos.Que encanto há no regresso e na redescoberta. Um encanto que voluntariamente me neguei, refugiando-me em partidas contentes e fugazes, porque sabia do conforto da volta. </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/7507658934414678872/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=7507658934414678872' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/7507658934414678872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/7507658934414678872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2007/09/setembro.html' title='Setembro'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YOTlFx2k-b8/RvJUGtQONiI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/VraYjHnZcB8/s72-c/156.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-3792408780030853960</id><published>2007-07-21T00:58:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-07-21T08:54:05.265+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Me et altri</title><summary type='text'>(very soon, one of these days, I’ll be able to mix all the feelings coming from different perceptions absorbed through different media… for now it’s all pastiche or probably my longest post)TEXTIt’s 23.54h of an average rough Friday evening.And outside is steamy hot.I take a deep breathAnd heat invades me.Heat all over my lungs and my thoughts.It is not complete solipsism.There is good people </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/3792408780030853960/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=3792408780030853960' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/3792408780030853960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/3792408780030853960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2007/07/me-et-altri.html' title='Me et altri'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YOTlFx2k-b8/RqFSdODcYKI/AAAAAAAAADc/ceq0iHLPdfw/s72-c/Untitled-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-7721470839588628240</id><published>2007-07-08T21:51:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-07-08T22:33:39.276+01:00</updated><title type='text'>how I met Clarice</title><summary type='text'>| "In the doorway", Andrew Wyeth (1984) |the story of the books I call mine can be extreme and diverse.at times, it is a story of personnal discovery, adventure and pure "chasse", amidst the dense forest (arid savannah?) of poor literature true words' lovers find in bookshops today.i am fortunate to have grown up in a home inhabited by books and cultural references. knowledge came always first. </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/7721470839588628240/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=7721470839588628240' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/7721470839588628240'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/7721470839588628240'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2007/07/how-i-met-clarice.html' title='how I met Clarice'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YOTlFx2k-b8/RpFXbuz0gtI/AAAAAAAAACE/yOr4yORkW8Y/s72-c/artwork_images_21_252349_andrew-wyeth.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-6227543335694010467</id><published>2007-07-08T21:19:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-07-08T21:47:33.265+01:00</updated><title type='text'>A espera morde</title><summary type='text'>Rodas dentadas consomem e acompanham o ranger de dentesque a passagem lenta do tempo instalana boca dos que desesperam frente ao quotidianodias de sabores férreos surgem no horizonte de amanhaceres contínuos (repetíveis, por isso façamos "fastforward")auroras breves vêm e vãoficam, por vezes (para estas, façamos "replay")ah, lamento fútil, inútilnão é nada, face aos que têm nas mãos a ferida </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/6227543335694010467/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=6227543335694010467' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/6227543335694010467'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/6227543335694010467'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2007/07/espera-morde.html' title='A espera morde'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_YOTlFx2k-b8/RpFNP-z0gsI/AAAAAAAAAB8/NmkXEuXIyH8/s72-c/wyeth-02grand.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-6975391065779478129</id><published>2007-06-22T00:22:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-06-22T00:23:58.624+01:00</updated><title type='text'>here is the one and only responsible</title><summary type='text'>for me wanting to be a journalist - Kermit, the frog.Does it sound credible enough?| Sesame Street, Kermit's Animal sounds interview (1971) |</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/6975391065779478129/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=6975391065779478129' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/6975391065779478129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/6975391065779478129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2007/06/here-is-one-and-only-responsible.html' title='here is the one and only responsible'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-8398814466657828098</id><published>2007-06-21T23:39:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-06-22T00:14:09.477+01:00</updated><title type='text'>and now, for something far more serious</title><summary type='text'>Este pequeno livro de George Steiner, absolutamente lúcido e de uma leitura tão fácil como cativante, recentrou a minha atenção na contemplação do que é, afinal, ensinar, e do que é aprender.Fazer escola com mestres não é a experiência mais democrática que exista neste mundo. Nem todos os que hoje ensinam são mestres. Nem todos os mestres fazem Escola.| a minha declaração de interesses neste post</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/8398814466657828098/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=8398814466657828098' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/8398814466657828098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/8398814466657828098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2007/06/and-now-for-something-far-more-serious.html' title='and now, for something far more serious'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YOTlFx2k-b8/RnsGMgyWEaI/AAAAAAAAABs/ZBGGLMm6teo/s72-c/mestres.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-6792287398640183765</id><published>2007-06-21T23:06:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-06-21T23:23:49.554+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Belle de Jour ou o exorcismo do erotismo</title><summary type='text'>| li "Belle de Jour", de Joseph Kessel. |exame despudorado da perversidade humanaonde os enigmas insolúveis do amor se divorciam da frustação sentimental (o físico pulsa, sempre, inquieto)Ah, Séverine, encontraste habitat secretono corpo profanado a pedido.Porque amas, Sévérineo leito branco, burgês e casto de Pierrese é nos lençóis conspurcados, da esquina e da rua sombria, que te comprazes?</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/6792287398640183765/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=6792287398640183765' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/6792287398640183765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/6792287398640183765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2007/06/belle-de-jour-ou-o-exorcismo-do.html' title='Belle de Jour ou o exorcismo do erotismo'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-2173843083251240291</id><published>2007-06-16T20:05:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-06-16T20:08:00.295+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Al-Tejo | professional pride |</title><summary type='text'>(no) feelings revealed|www.tsf.pt|</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/2173843083251240291/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=2173843083251240291' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/2173843083251240291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/2173843083251240291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2007/06/al-tejo-professional-pride.html' title='Al-Tejo | professional pride |'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YOTlFx2k-b8/RnQ0zAyWEZI/AAAAAAAAABk/X9OugqG7W4U/s72-c/tsf.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-6756774936189231615</id><published>2007-06-16T19:42:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-06-16T19:51:41.934+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Come on, little stranger</title><summary type='text'>O ritual é o da minha twisted imaginationé que tanta vez me apetece a suspensão da normalidade(ah, como abomino a normalidade)e embarcar no ritmo descontrolado da vontadesem vozes de fundo de panoou grilos fazendo "cri cri" à consciênciaa hipérbole do non sense não é against the lawe, acho que já disse,apetece-me muitas vezes.aos que me fazem olhar para tráse parar, por instantes, a máquina em </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/6756774936189231615/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=6756774936189231615' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/6756774936189231615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/6756774936189231615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2007/06/come-on-little-stranger.html' title='Come on, little stranger'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-3415633173332998207</id><published>2007-06-09T22:49:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-06-09T22:57:28.184+01:00</updated><title type='text'>B&amp;W Milonga (professional journal)</title><summary type='text'>The variation is: whatever happens, it is always new(s). - please, make note, a happening is not a mere frivolity of time To this recipe, add whoever is the leading actor (oh, it’s not a vast category…)- the runners head to where he or she is responsively, almost subservientlyWherever what the runners pursue is taking place is their ultimately desired locationThe runners are so there.The runners </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/3415633173332998207/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=3415633173332998207' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/3415633173332998207'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/3415633173332998207'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2007/06/b-milonga-professional-journal.html' title='B&amp;W Milonga (professional journal)'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-5330274870095535077</id><published>2007-05-30T12:13:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-05-30T12:29:54.915+01:00</updated><title type='text'>And on the radio...</title><summary type='text'>poema do notíciário radiofónicoO éter é menos volátil do que imaginava.Pesa e adensa-se em espessas colunas de fumo, dos cigarros mastigados ao ritmo trepidantee frenético do acontecer. A rotina das meias horas obriga. Mas eu não fumo.Eu não conhecia, é verdade, os segredos profundos do métier.Nem a voz (personalidade minha) que se mascaraforçosamentepara falar ao microfone.A rotina das meias </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/5330274870095535077/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=5330274870095535077' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/5330274870095535077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/5330274870095535077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2007/05/and-on-radio.html' title='And on the radio...'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YOTlFx2k-b8/Rl1f5VzR9qI/AAAAAAAAABc/3MN871yjEd4/s72-c/mic.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-8510693053545469448</id><published>2007-05-29T23:33:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-05-30T12:10:58.233+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Alfonsina Storni</title><summary type='text'>"Las lágrimas vertidas se haránperlas de un collar nuevo; romperá la sombraun sol precioso que dará a las venasla savia fresca, loca y bullidora."Texto: Alfonsina Storni, Lo InacabableNão sei se foi o mar de Alfonsina que me deixou assim, pensando na experiência da dor e na existência trágica da palavra-poema. (Falo tanto do mar, noto agora…)Al*fon*si*naTudo neste nome era novo para mim. Mas como</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/8510693053545469448/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=8510693053545469448' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/8510693053545469448'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/8510693053545469448'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2007/05/alfonsina-storni.html' title='Alfonsina Storni'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-6606773661904006464</id><published>2007-05-02T20:26:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-05-02T20:31:28.524+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Tanto mar dentro. Onde não tenho medo de entrar.</title><summary type='text'>"Sei que estás em festa, páFico contenteE enquanto estou ausenteGuarda um cravo pra mimEu queria estar na festa, páCom a tua genteE colher pessoalmenteUma flor do teu jardimSei que há léguas a nos separarTanto mar, tanto marSei também que é preciso, páNavegar, navegarLá faz primavera, páCá estou doenteManda urgentementeAlgum cheirinho de alecrim""Tanto Mar"Chico Buarque |1975|Cantado por Maria de</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/6606773661904006464/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=6606773661904006464' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/6606773661904006464'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/6606773661904006464'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2007/05/tanto-mar-dentro-onde-no-tenho-medo-de.html' title='Tanto mar dentro. Onde não tenho medo de entrar.'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-8726138977147986221</id><published>2007-04-18T23:42:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-04-18T23:54:56.936+01:00</updated><title type='text'>The videoclip is terrible. It lacks taste in every sense.</title><summary type='text'>But the sound is perfect. Minimal yet a massive explosion of senses overcoming self-containment. The aesthetics of simple elements and compounds. A futuristic music which has the enchantment of projecting the compulsive listener to wider horizons. And what to say about the underlying concept? Téo &amp; Téa, twins for the idea of love.Sublime masterization by Jean Michel Jarre. </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/8726138977147986221/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=8726138977147986221' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/8726138977147986221'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/8726138977147986221'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2007/04/videoclip-is-terrible-it-lacks-taste-in.html' title='The videoclip is terrible. It lacks taste in every sense.'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-4877428367805383300</id><published>2007-04-18T22:25:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-04-18T23:08:54.606+01:00</updated><title type='text'>The empire within. A story of disturbance.</title><summary type='text'>Disturbance can be defined as a temporary change in average environmental conditions. The vast empire within us often suffers severe disturbance. Main land desintegrates and a sense of departure arises. Inland is multiplied in a series of filmic sequences. Asynchronous. Non-logical. Timeless. I went to see David Lynch's Inland Empire. To me, these almost three hours of demential delirum and </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/4877428367805383300/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=4877428367805383300' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/4877428367805383300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/4877428367805383300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2007/04/empire-within-story-of-disturbance.html' title='The empire within. A story of disturbance.'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-3875338545414383653</id><published>2007-03-30T14:29:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-03-30T14:32:13.340+01:00</updated><title type='text'>I can't take a good day without a bad one.</title><summary type='text'>But isn't that life? It's all just begun.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/3875338545414383653/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=3875338545414383653' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/3875338545414383653'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/3875338545414383653'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2007/03/i-cant-take-good-day-without-bad-one.html' title='I can&apos;t take a good day without a bad one.'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-931583085203734256</id><published>2007-03-30T10:59:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-03-30T11:19:05.446+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Because I think I never told you</title><summary type='text'>I am a human rights defender.I simply felt like sharing this political message, hoping it strikes you as much as it afflicted my global concerns.«So much heaven, so much hellSo much love, so much painSo much more than I thought this world could ever containSo much war, so much soulMoments lost, moments goSo much more than I thought this world could ever hold» Texto  Imagem-Movimento-Pensamento: "</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/931583085203734256/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=931583085203734256' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/931583085203734256'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/931583085203734256'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2007/03/because-i-think-i-never-told-you.html' title='Because I think I never told you'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-8659197811547116456</id><published>2007-03-28T20:15:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-03-28T20:16:58.409+01:00</updated><title type='text'>But inside my soul sings and rejoices</title><summary type='text'>God Save the Queen!</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/8659197811547116456/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=8659197811547116456' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/8659197811547116456'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/8659197811547116456'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2007/03/but-inside-my-soul-sings-and-rejoices.html' title='But inside my soul sings and rejoices'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YOTlFx2k-b8/Rgq_CsYtCQI/AAAAAAAAABU/ou1gW9cXUHY/s72-c/qm_logo.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-2825232262801899484</id><published>2007-03-28T20:11:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-03-28T20:14:55.524+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Thank you</title><summary type='text'>[King Albert and Queen Paola]</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/2825232262801899484/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=2825232262801899484' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/2825232262801899484'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/2825232262801899484'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2007/03/thank-you.html' title='Thank you'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YOTlFx2k-b8/Rgq-lMYtCPI/AAAAAAAAABM/YmhNb8HErnU/s72-c/coe_logo_small.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-2596335831143012452</id><published>2007-03-21T13:59:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-03-21T14:20:08.152Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>cahier de voyage#3 Antwerp My dear friend Lotte had already warned me that the heart of Belgium is Flanders and more precisely Antwerp. Taken by the hands of Brabo, the mythological creature surrounding the legendary origins of this prosperous ancient city, I must say my visit had a particular charm and confirmed the cosmopolitan feel that I expected to find there. In my mind (there, where the </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/2596335831143012452/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=2596335831143012452' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/2596335831143012452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/2596335831143012452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2007/03/cahier-de-voyage3-antwerp-my-dear.html' title=''/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_YOTlFx2k-b8/RgE-nWtym0I/AAAAAAAAABE/DgE0B3hzT-M/s72-c/P1010025.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-5836490718240119331</id><published>2007-03-20T19:38:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-03-20T21:25:41.299Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>cahier de voyage#2 London I tryed to stick to my very old promise of never bringing responsibilies to my fun moments, but my chaotic structure (or, should I say, my nature and the nature of everything that crosses my way) made me do it again. I was hired for a last minute job and couldn't possibly say no. So, after dinner, my first evening at London was spent in front of the laptop, untill the </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/5836490718240119331/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=5836490718240119331' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/5836490718240119331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/5836490718240119331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2007/03/cahier-de-voyage2-london-i-tryed-to.html' title=''/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YOTlFx2k-b8/RgBNI2tymzI/AAAAAAAAAA8/_WQ2o2-K15w/s72-c/11111111.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-8327868908087269101</id><published>2007-03-20T17:03:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-03-20T17:50:18.924Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>cahier de voyage#1 London If in London, be open to everything and let your spirit learn from the city where tomorrow is now. A minha viagem a Londres teve o encanto do inesperado e uma preparação apressada que aguçou o sentido de descoberta e uma sensação de maravilhamento permanente. O avant-voyage foi atribulado como nunca, bilhetes comprados na véspera, pela noite. Estar em trânsito no </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/8327868908087269101/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=8327868908087269101' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/8327868908087269101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/8327868908087269101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2007/03/cahier-de-voyage_20.html' title=''/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-7455918795665369397</id><published>2007-03-19T21:54:00.001Z</published><updated>2007-03-19T22:14:59.150Z</updated><title type='text'>Cahier de voyage</title><summary type='text'>Lembro-me de, numa aula de literatura portuguesa, a Professora B. ter aberto o livro e ter-se suspenso (e a nós, que suspensos estávamos da sua leitura configuradora) numa referência a Xavier de Maistre que se encontra logo nas páginas iniciais das «Viagens na Minha Terra»:Voyage autour de ma chambre «Qu'il est glorieux d'ouvrir une nouvelle carrière, et de paraître tout à coup dans le monde </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/7455918795665369397/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=7455918795665369397' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/7455918795665369397'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/7455918795665369397'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2007/03/cahier-de-voyage.html' title='Cahier de voyage'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-1670737273882408886</id><published>2007-03-19T21:45:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-03-19T21:48:46.586Z</updated><title type='text'>«Oh, partir est ce qu'on redoute»</title><summary type='text'>Perco-me na nostalgia (estranha, anti-natural e antecipatória) de viver o amanhã.Mas eu sou daqui, deste eterno sentido de um impulso propulsor, motor da vontade.Inteiro no que há de inicial, original e novo,e que é a desafogada partida deste regresso.Música / Filme: «Moby &amp; Mylène Farmer - Slipping Away (Crier La Vie)»</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/1670737273882408886/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=1670737273882408886' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/1670737273882408886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/1670737273882408886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2007/03/oh-partir-est-ce-quon-redoute.html' title='«Oh, partir est ce qu&apos;on redoute»'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-117054076033831458</id><published>2007-02-03T22:09:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-02-03T22:12:40.350Z</updated><title type='text'>Nao sou daqui</title><summary type='text'>Pode um lugar condensar uma vontadeUma não-vontade, pesada e contráriaQue se perde no desnorte do compasso DesmagnetizadoPode um lugar condensar uma vontadeExpressa apenas na conclusão-antídotoQue quer só dizer: não sou daqui.Não sou deste sítio que o meu volume ocupa.Vale-me o vôo da alma.Oh, humanidade desencontrada.Encontra-me o meu lugar.Musica / Imagem: Amélia Muge (Não sou daqui)</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/117054076033831458/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=117054076033831458' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/117054076033831458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/117054076033831458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2007/02/nao-sou-daqui.html' title='Nao sou daqui'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-117053930518718525</id><published>2007-02-03T21:44:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-02-03T21:52:10.726Z</updated><title type='text'>Diferente</title><summary type='text'>"Vibra mi mente al pensar en la posibilidad de encontrar un rumbo diferente" Música / Imagem / Texto: Gotan Project (Lunatico)Get ready for you first dance.Porque é sempre diferente a cada vez que se recomeça e redescobre. Apesar da familiariedade dos recortesSimétricos e de geometria especular.A dança é a harmonia dos corpos que vão sonhando alto.E só pedem para não ser acordados.São então </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/117053930518718525/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=117053930518718525' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/117053930518718525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/117053930518718525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2007/02/diferente.html' title='Diferente'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-116794656731282613</id><published>2007-01-04T21:19:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-01-04T21:36:07.323Z</updated><title type='text'>slow motion. still in motion. (rappidly) towards elsewhere. onde não ecoam falsas manhãs</title><summary type='text'>Manhã lenta (falsa, portanto)ao adormecerpercorrer o fio da existênciaembalado em sonhos que petrificam retratos do acontecerquantas frames a retirar?quantas cenas a remasterizar,porque os obsessivos do viver são cinéfilos que montam fitas articialmentepor não saberem viver de cor.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/116794656731282613/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=116794656731282613' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/116794656731282613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/116794656731282613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2007/01/slow-motion-still-in-motion-rappidly.html' title='slow motion. still in motion. (rappidly) towards elsewhere. onde não ecoam falsas manhãs'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-116794131779293638</id><published>2007-01-04T19:59:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-01-04T20:08:37.826Z</updated><title type='text'>Deixei-me entrar naquela seara</title><summary type='text'>Abandonando-me àquele ondular que era uma constância.Adormeceu em mim a futilidade daquela canção.Foi uma melodia encriptada numa chave que deitei fora.(num gesto protector)O gesto espelha-se na sombra de um dia que, sendo de chuva, é afinal de sol. O gesto espalha-se como sementes lançadas por mãos pujantes, que não se arrependem.(num gesto protector)Deixei-me entrar naquela seara,terra de </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/116794131779293638/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=116794131779293638' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/116794131779293638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/116794131779293638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2007/01/deixei-me-entrar-naquela-seara.html' title='Deixei-me entrar naquela seara'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-116680452736127297</id><published>2006-12-22T16:16:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-12-22T16:24:46.476Z</updated><title type='text'>Polarized Light</title><summary type='text'>Natural light of my contentmentColouring of white my hurt insideHow many layers of flesh you need to cross, before you reach my soulIn time to rescue me and bring in a luminous new feeling?Into the light I dive. And become white (white).</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/116680452736127297/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=116680452736127297' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/116680452736127297'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/116680452736127297'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2006/12/polarized-light.html' title='Polarized Light'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-116680371428486429</id><published>2006-12-22T15:52:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-12-22T16:09:56.540Z</updated><title type='text'>For those who do nothing but...</title><summary type='text'>"Mr. Muscle forcing burstingStingy thingy into little me, me, meBut just "ripple" said the crippleAs my jaw dropped to the groundSmile smileIt's true I always wanted love to beHurtfulAnd it's true I always wanted love to beFilled with painAnd bruisesYes, so Cripple-Pig was happyScreamed " I just compeletely love you!And there's no rhyme or reasonI'm changing like the seasonsWatch! I'll even cut </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/116680371428486429/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=116680371428486429' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/116680371428486429'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/116680371428486429'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2006/12/for-those-who-do-nothing-but.html' title='For those who do nothing but...'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-116673942090303816</id><published>2006-12-21T22:03:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-12-21T22:17:00.916Z</updated><title type='text'>This feels so good</title><summary type='text'>J'en dors plus                         Je te désir...Imagem-movimento: "A streetcar named desire", Elia Kazan - USA, 1951</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/116673942090303816/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=116673942090303816' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/116673942090303816'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/116673942090303816'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2006/12/this-feels-so-good.html' title='This feels so good'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-116576128942811525</id><published>2006-12-10T14:28:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-12-10T14:38:08.630Z</updated><title type='text'>Here, alone</title><summary type='text'>Hope there's someoneWho'll take care of me When I die, will I goHope there's someoneWho'll set my heart free Nice to hold when I'm tiredThere's a ghost on the horizon When I go to bed How can I fall asleep at night How will I rest my headOh I'm scared of the middle place Between light and nowhere I don't want to be the one Left in there, left in thereThere's a man on the horizon Wish that I'd go </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/116576128942811525/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=116576128942811525' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/116576128942811525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/116576128942811525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2006/12/here-alone.html' title='Here, alone'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-116561063972438759</id><published>2006-12-08T20:33:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-12-08T20:43:59.736Z</updated><title type='text'>O sabor das páginas</title><summary type='text'>"We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospection." /Anais Nin/Um menú de sabores muito variados. Mas saberão os dois momentos ao mesmo? Que consequência tem o diferimento entre o momento e a retrospecção? O que traz o adensamento, em corrente, das memórias? Momentos doces ou amargos? Quentes de especiarias e exotismos ou insípidos, como água? A que sabem as letras recentes, </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/116561063972438759/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=116561063972438759' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/116561063972438759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/116561063972438759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2006/12/o-sabor-das-pginas.html' title='O sabor das páginas'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-116560928946159160</id><published>2006-12-08T20:09:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-12-08T20:21:29.473Z</updated><title type='text'>O trânsito das palavras</title><summary type='text'>em·i·grant : "departing or having departed from a country to settle elsewhere" ex·pa·tri·ate : "living in a foreign land"/Encyclopedia Britannica Online/Como a língua pode ser elitista. And now, what am I? Em Bruxelas, ninguém se acha emigrante. Vivemos todos no estatuto feliz, arrogante e pretensioso de expats. I couldn't disagree more with this make-up mechanism. Camouflage au-dessus de la </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/116560928946159160/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=116560928946159160' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/116560928946159160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/116560928946159160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2006/12/o-trnsito-das-palavras.html' title='O trânsito das palavras'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-116560836559487607</id><published>2006-12-08T19:58:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-12-08T20:06:05.603Z</updated><title type='text'>Promessa</title><summary type='text'>Debaixo da intermitência dos dias de água, nesta Bruxelas imprópria para seres nostálgicos e apolíneos, contemplo o dia debaixo do meu guarda-chuva amarelo. E irradio felicidade.  E mesmo que aqui amanheça invariavelmente um dia sem raios e sem luz, fecho os olhos e a brancura incandescente à volta das minhas órbitas é a de um sol brilhante. I'm on my way.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/116560836559487607/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=116560836559487607' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/116560836559487607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/116560836559487607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2006/12/promessa.html' title='Promessa'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-116422314227449363</id><published>2006-11-22T19:06:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-11-22T19:19:02.286Z</updated><title type='text'>learning city</title><summary type='text'>Keeping track of my own psychogeography, I must write about Nottingham, and the magical gardens of wisdom, crossways of knowledge that I crossed so gladly. In Nottingham, I learned the human dimension of Universitas. Thank you all, people that I met, for that journey we all took. More than analysing conflict, we were dealing with our own representational universes, conceptual alphabets clashing </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/116422314227449363/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=116422314227449363' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/116422314227449363'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/116422314227449363'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2006/11/learning-city.html' title='learning city'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-116326436987763141</id><published>2006-11-11T16:53:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-11-11T17:09:46.676Z</updated><title type='text'>Remembrance Day</title><summary type='text'>Nunca te conheci, avô. Mas conheço a linhagem hereditária, que chegou até mim na mais substancial forma de bondade. Mãos calosas que se abrem infinitamente. Em trincheiras de uma guerra que não foi tua, recordo-te, sem de ti ter memória. Só conhecimento. Só a mesma planície, no olhar. A que, seguramente, sempre desejaste regressar. Para respirar.Hoje, o remembrance day é teu. E meu, também.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/116326436987763141/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=116326436987763141' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/116326436987763141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/116326436987763141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2006/11/remembrance-day.html' title='Remembrance Day'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-116257861471831991</id><published>2006-11-03T17:45:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-11-03T18:34:53.003Z</updated><title type='text'>La verite</title><summary type='text'>"Je te le jure tu as ma parole Je te dis la vérité Je t'explique ce qui s'est passé"Texto: Vive la FêteImagem: François Lemoine, "Time saving Truth from Falsehood and Envy", 1737A verdade circula pelos caminhos sinuosos da mentira. E é bom saber que o tempo consubstancia a sua reposição. É bom saber que a verdade finta os trilhos, as arquitecturas e osquestrações conspirativas dos destinos mal </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/116257861471831991/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=116257861471831991' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/116257861471831991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/116257861471831991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2006/11/la-verite.html' title='La verite'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-116249680488636856</id><published>2006-11-02T19:41:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-11-02T19:46:44.886Z</updated><title type='text'>Preto e branco</title><summary type='text'>Eu sou de um tempo preto e branco.Não pertenço ao presente. Pertenço a uma luz difusa que brilha e cintila num cristal que fere e mata.Cinema: "India Song", Marguerite Duras, 1975</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/116249680488636856/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=116249680488636856' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/116249680488636856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/116249680488636856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2006/11/preto-e-branco.html' title='Preto e branco'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-116249619753851686</id><published>2006-11-02T19:29:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-11-02T19:38:14.193Z</updated><title type='text'>Vermelho</title><summary type='text'>Descobri uma nova gradação de cor. "Vermelho-vestido".Esta é uma categoria apreensível por todos os meus sentidos. "Vermelho-vestido" é uma totalidade inteligível, que os olhos bebem, embevecidos. Saudades de rever o "vermelho-vestido". Em qualquer próxima paixão.Cinema: "India Song", Marguerite Duras, 1975</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/116249619753851686/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=116249619753851686' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/116249619753851686'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/116249619753851686'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2006/11/vermelho.html' title='Vermelho'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-116249554551530957</id><published>2006-11-02T19:21:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-11-02T19:28:02.110Z</updated><title type='text'>Tornei-me volatil no tempo doloroso.</title><summary type='text'>E cansei-me de me degradar na espera.Cinema: "India Song", Marguerite Duras, 1975</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/116249554551530957/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=116249554551530957' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/116249554551530957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/116249554551530957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2006/11/tornei-me-volatil-no-tempo-doloroso.html' title='Tornei-me volatil no tempo doloroso.'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-116137346827358994</id><published>2006-10-20T20:11:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-10-21T12:59:41.493+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Exactement.</title><summary type='text'>Estou em Bruxelas há quase dois meses. Mas foi há dias, apenas, que o atraso da minha chegada se abateu sobre mim. Exactement. Há apenas alguns dias e já aqui estou há dois meses. Não foi como um choque, mas foi como o lento acordar de uma anestesia que me colocava num estado de dormência e aceitação cega das imanências do mundo. Mais, quelles sont les immanences du monde? Existent-elles?Non, je </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/116137346827358994/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=116137346827358994' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/116137346827358994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/116137346827358994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2006/10/exactement.html' title='Exactement.'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-116110871698300453</id><published>2006-10-17T19:07:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-10-17T19:11:56.996+01:00</updated><title type='text'>21/10 | An essential collection of feelings, world exclusive</title><summary type='text'>Pure blend of absolute honesty, passion and upliving devotion. Transit of emotion. I can almost see you flying so high in the sky to land here, where I am.Be welcome in my heart.Transitory transit. This is just my necessary traffic. Non compatible with the permanence I register inside of me.I can’t wait. I can’t wait. Cross that gate, break through that LCD screen. I want to see you flashing in </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/116110871698300453/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=116110871698300453' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/116110871698300453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/116110871698300453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2006/10/2110-essential-collection-of-feelings.html' title='21/10 | An essential collection of feelings, world exclusive'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-116110630801043452</id><published>2006-10-17T18:15:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-10-17T18:34:59.793+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Darjeeling</title><summary type='text'>my journey starts HEREand now.compassos de dança jamais frustrados por um corpo que não fraqueja.esta é a robustez ancestral da árvore que me deu vida, da vontade óssea e férrea que floresce em mim, dos dentes cerrados que mordem todos os sabores que atravessaram a minha vida, ainda tão curta. my journey starts each and every single time my lips are hit by a new flavour.       nas folhas de um </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/116110630801043452/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=116110630801043452' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/116110630801043452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/116110630801043452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2006/10/darjeeling.html' title='Darjeeling'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-115843973873260008</id><published>2006-09-16T20:55:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-09-16T21:51:41.770+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Book of days</title><summary type='text'>"you're young untill you're notyou laugh untill you cryyou cry untill you laugh"texto: Regina Spektor, "On the radio"imagem: Turner, "Sunrise with Sea Monsters", 1845No, I not only write when my existence seems tragic. But confrontation with the basics of life is more and more an undeniable fact to me. Through the window of my attic no longer the skies are eternal blue. Sometimes the window has a</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/115843973873260008/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=115843973873260008' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/115843973873260008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/115843973873260008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2006/09/book-of-days.html' title='Book of days'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-115782322735856142</id><published>2006-09-09T18:24:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-09-09T18:44:02.200+01:00</updated><title type='text'>the hardest part</title><summary type='text'>"And I tried to sing But I couldn't think of anythingAnd that was the hardest part"texto: "The Hardest Part", Cold Playimagem: "Night Shadows", Edward Hoper, 1921Murmúrio interior, eco da respiração interrompida. Como é difícil, hoje, o ar atravessar esta caixa de ressonância interior e pulmonar. E aqui ficar.Fade away. Fade away. Fade away. E não há mão que me ampare, que me entre corpo-dentro, </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/115782322735856142/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=115782322735856142' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/115782322735856142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/115782322735856142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2006/09/hardest-part.html' title='the hardest part'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-115559595375191797</id><published>2006-08-14T23:42:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-08-14T23:52:33.763+01:00</updated><title type='text'>we never need to make new love. l'amour que nous avons, il nous sufit pour toujours. even when it rains.</title><summary type='text'>"while you are awaymy heart comes undoneslowly unravelsin a ball of yarnthe devil collects itwith a grinour lovein a ball of yarnhe'll never return itso when you come backwe'll have to make new love"texto: "Unravel", Bjork</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/115559595375191797/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=115559595375191797' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/115559595375191797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/115559595375191797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2006/08/we-never-need-to-make-new-love-lamour.html' title='we never need to make new love. l&apos;amour que nous avons, il nous sufit pour toujours. even when it rains.'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-115559504695966763</id><published>2006-08-14T23:02:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-08-14T23:42:00.866+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Carthography of memories - Geneva part I</title><summary type='text'>Reúno para cada cidade onde vivo, uma colecção de memórias. Perco-me no prazer dessas recordações e acontece-me, por vezes, ser mais feliz no momento da lembrança do que no do presente. Genebra inscreveu-se em mim de modo muito particular. Vivi pouco tempo lá. Não lhe admiro particularmente as formas, o traço das ruas, as montanhas asfixiantes, ou a convergência para a vertigem do enorme espelho </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/115559504695966763/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=115559504695966763' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/115559504695966763'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/115559504695966763'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2006/08/carthography-of-memories-geneva-part-i.html' title='Carthography of memories - Geneva part I'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-114789967059331675</id><published>2006-05-17T21:47:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-05-17T22:01:10.643+01:00</updated><title type='text'>With a flower</title><summary type='text'>«I hide myslef within my flower,That wearing on your breast,You, unsuspecting, wear me too -And angels know the rest.I hide myslef within my flower,That, fading from your vase,You, unsuspecting, feel for meAlmost a loneliness»Texto: Emily Dickinson, «With a Flower»Imagem: Marc Chagall, «Still Life with Flowers», 1948A moving gift from my significant other. «Love Poems and Others», by Emily </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/114789967059331675/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=114789967059331675' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/114789967059331675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/114789967059331675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2006/05/with-flower.html' title='With a flower'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-114686524604909509</id><published>2006-05-05T22:30:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-05-05T22:40:46.076+01:00</updated><title type='text'>the return</title><summary type='text'>       vuelvo aqui                                 volto                       je retourneQuel est le régime discursif de l'absence?                                                                                                       L'absence c'est la non-présence                     L'absence d'un instant. Maintenant je suis ici. Pour l'étérnité du temps possible. Quand tu dors.  </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/114686524604909509/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=114686524604909509' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/114686524604909509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/114686524604909509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2006/05/return.html' title='the return'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-114686447366201372</id><published>2006-05-05T22:20:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-05-05T22:27:53.676+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Oui</title><summary type='text'>I wish a falling star could fall foreverAnd sparkle through the clouds and stormy weatherAnd in the darkness of the nightThe star would shine a glimmering lightAnd hover above our lovePlease hold me close and whisper that you love meAnd promise that your dreams are only of meWhen you are near, everything’s clearEarth is a beautiful heavenAlways I hope that we follow the starAnd be forever </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/114686447366201372/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=114686447366201372' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/114686447366201372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/114686447366201372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2006/05/oui.html' title='Oui'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-114307245561632577</id><published>2006-03-22T23:53:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-23T00:07:35.626Z</updated><title type='text'>Bal Moderne</title><summary type='text'>I flew to a bal moderne and to the arms of my significant other. we twisted and we fell into the deep colours of a sleepless soirée. no moon. no stars. no others. i came to be one. i came to be only yours.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/114307245561632577/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=114307245561632577' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/114307245561632577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/114307245561632577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2006/03/bal-moderne.html' title='Bal Moderne'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-114306158475939500</id><published>2006-03-22T21:01:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-22T21:07:22.960Z</updated><title type='text'>a verdade apanha-se com enganos</title><summary type='text'>«sonhei aos vinte anos durante três avé-mariasque eu tinha-me roubado a minha vidadepois de treler o monte dos vendavaisdecidi ir contra a futilidade do romancefui apanhado aos vinte e dois anosem plena capicua inocente e ruaem amantíssima posse viralaos vinte e três outonos apaixonei-me doze vezese nem sempre pelas mesmas almasmas sobrevivi a um coração míope»música: «A Naifa»texto: Pedro </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/114306158475939500/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=114306158475939500' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/114306158475939500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/114306158475939500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2006/03/verdade-apanha-se-com-enganos.html' title='a verdade apanha-se com enganos'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-114306111510558408</id><published>2006-03-22T20:50:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-22T20:59:01.783Z</updated><title type='text'>«3 minutos antes de a maré encher» ou os sons que oiço [inspired by «A Naifa»]</title><summary type='text'>se eu soubesse quanto tempo levava a maré a encher, deixava-me afogar, por não me apetecer fugir.antes da maré encher condensa o drama da existência, a crueldade dos dias e das vidas banais e monocromáticas.é melhor deixar a maré encher e varrer da superfície do mundo as mãos presas no parapeito da janela, a alma trespassada de frieiras e arranhões, as páginas que se sabem de cor, a porta que se </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/114306111510558408/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=114306111510558408' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/114306111510558408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/114306111510558408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2006/03/3-minutos-antes-de-mar-encher-ou-os.html' title='«3 minutos antes de a maré encher» ou os sons que oiço [inspired by «A Naifa»]'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-114306054338757485</id><published>2006-03-22T20:38:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-22T20:49:03.400Z</updated><title type='text'>inprint</title><summary type='text'>Os meus dias de trabalho são sempre entrecortados pelo estrépito de um novo acontecer. Trabalho há duas semanas. Pouco mais. E continua a apetecer-me essa solicitação do por vir. Contenta-me. Alegra-me. Porque ainda não senti a sucessão igual dos dias. Não amanheço todos os dias. Não conheço o entardecer de outros tantos. Pertenço episodicamente, mas ao mesmo tempo de forma integral, como se ali </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/114306054338757485/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=114306054338757485' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/114306054338757485'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/114306054338757485'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2006/03/inprint.html' title='inprint'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-114166694304945334</id><published>2006-03-06T17:36:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-06T21:35:25.433Z</updated><title type='text'>do mutismo</title><summary type='text'>Porque às vezes só as tags falam. Porque o nome é o indício / índice que grita. Escondê-lo é calar a voz do texto. E deixar falar o mutismo.Imagem: Édouard Levé, «Conference» </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/114166694304945334/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=114166694304945334' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/114166694304945334'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/114166694304945334'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2006/03/do-mutismo.html' title='do mutismo'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5508989.post-114165862307487459</id><published>2006-03-06T15:05:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-06T21:35:37.866Z</updated><title type='text'>dos sons originais</title><summary type='text'>Sentado à mesa do computador, que é uma velha máquina de costura, trabalho e escuto o murmúrio das coisas à minha volta. O sítio onde trabalho é uma velha peixaria. Nas paredes há mármore, fria. E o encanto das coisas velhas que só na memória viverão. A geometria da sala é cortada pela bancada de pedra. A sua função foi reinventada. É uma mesa de trabalho, também. Ocupam-na portfolios e projectos</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/feeds/114165862307487459/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5508989&amp;postID=114165862307487459' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/114165862307487459'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5508989/posts/default/114165862307487459'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://observai.blogspot.com/2006/03/dos-sons-originais.html' title='dos sons originais'/><author><name>Jorge Tiago Martins</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
