Belly Button

"Umbilical Tracing"

Photo by Alice

Machinarium Stomach

A clean lick in the Fork’s Vow set the table on another Established Food.

Photo by Alice

Music : Svetimas Netgi Ateitu - Lethe

Postais de Rua

Photo and Work by Alice

Ruas de paredes entre a distancia que nos separa.
Nos vidros da tua Janela, uma casa que se parte.
Sorrisos de Simpatia enfática que ficou,
Na ferrugem dos teus actos.

Tentativas entubadas num respiradouro desamparado como,
Uma bengala de desistências que apoia as tuas pernas de Ferro.

Sensibilidade que escarafunchei no betão da tua pele,
Perdeu-se nas oportunidades que fantasiei,
Quando te escrevi,

Um Postal de Rua.

Unstoppable Train

Now I never gonna tell...

...You

Photo by Alice


Music : Shelter - The XX

Individuality

Fragile by Strength

Photo by Alice

Question

Mark

Photo by Alice

Tree Mask

"Immovable"

Photo by Alice

Temple of Sand

As I entered the meandering Gates,
The king’s name vanished in the Hot Ground,
And the Hourglass made of queen’s skin,

Was broken…

Photo by Alice

A breathing Friend, buried in the corners of Sand,
Like all the earth creatures standing dry in the walls.

I raked the water of this Desert to found the stones,
Hidden in the eyes of Space…

…sleeping in the Relinquishing World’s.

Lurking

"Inside"

Photo by Alice

Left Behind

There are no Us…

Disability isn’t a brick in bridges Society.

Photo by Alice

Music : The Dance of Diminishing Possibilities - Baby Dee

Lunch

Snack Time

Photo by Alice

The Castle

The Dreams still remains in the Tower of Ice.

Photo by Alice

Sexy Camouflage

The gender of Stop Motion

Photo by Alice

The Fortuneteller

I have many eyes in the Past.
I embrace many arms in the Present.
I walk many roads in the Future.

Photo by Alice

Give me your hand…?

Cripple Marriage

Pull the lever and Jump, the filthy Seduction is on the floor.

Photo by White Rabbit

Music : Ólavur Riddararós - Valravn

Lines in the Emptiness

Hang up the Season and take your Invisible coats.

Photo by Mad Hatter

Music : Alone Together - Chet Baker

Unborn Creations

I’m starting

right were

I’m ending







Music : Munchen - The Kilimanjaro Darkjazz Ensemble

*All photos by Alice

Paraffin Nights

There are no candles when you are a tourist in hell.

Photo by Alice

Prelúdios de um quase Desenho.

Debaixo da minha cama, vivem sombras de braços abertos e sem cabeça.

Photo by Alice

Naquele papel branco de luzes esbatidas e lençóis recolhidos, espreitei por recantos paralelos de fichas esquecidas e tomadas penduradas, que apontavam para luzes imaginárias.
Canetas gigantes riscavam tesouros de histórias em casas humanas, debaixo de camas e sofás perdidos, em cidades desorganizadas. Debaixo de tudo o que fosse habitado, por objectos sem movimento.
Segredos em aparas de lápis espalharam-se como flores, plantadas em ventres sépias, murmurando confidências iridescentes. Em minhas mãos, caíram focos de tons em flocos flutuantes, suspirados por sombras de braços abertos e sem cabeça, como se cada respiração luminosa fosse um conto escrito por bonecos de trapo.

Na taquigrafia de delírios ténues, as sombras de braços abertos e sem cabeça, pintaram as paredes do desenho em grafite e sanguinárias hesitantes, decalcando personagens familiares de vestes aéreas e fluidas.
A mais pequena e rechonchuda tinha um sorriso parado que desaparecia, assim que, percorria os corredores do colchão abotoado em farripas de madeira. A mais alta e espadaúda, não tinha nem mãos nem pés, apenas espirais de sombra líquida, que escorriam em pequenos nevoeiros fugazes, entre os dedos dos objectos translúcidos, que compunham aquela casa de fumo, debaixo da minha cama.
Em três contratempos e sem barítonos, as sombras de braços abertos e sem cabeça, rodearam-me, de linguagem amolada e riscos guturais, convidando a desenhar-me ali.
Contornos da minha sombra surgiram lentamente, em garatujas e comboios de pedra, despindo-se em lenços de claridade, como abas de um caderno amolgado dentro de uma mochila de lã. E minúsculas criaturinhas de sombras de braços abertos e sem cabeça, apareciam cintilantes e curiosas, para verem o meu esbracejar de traços rápidos e toscos, que rodopiavam em telas gás de meios-tons. Os meus poucos esboços de aviões, avionetas e dirigíveis de cartão, levantaram voo numa dança zunida, de abelhas transparentes e fios eléctricos. Em abobadas de ardósia ficaram traçados, tal como todos os animais alados e sem patas, os barcos de hélices voadoras, os bonecos de ferro abandonado, as rodas de comboios sem apitos, os cubos de arco-íris em madeira ferrugenta. Enfim, todos os sonhos de giz que foram traçados no pó do esquecimento.
Coxa de sono, puxei da borracha em minha almofada e quis ali adormecer, debaixo da minha cama, aconchegada pelas sombras de braços abertos e sem cabeça. Fechando os olhos em pestanas outonais, compus um Até já em solfejo pendente.

Sabia que na noite seguinte estariam ali, pois todos precisamos das nossas sombras de braços abertos e sem cabeça, debaixo das nossas camas.

Music : Another Rather Lovely Thing - Nick Cave & Warren Ellis

Milking the Cow

The Annoying Pacifiers

Photo by Alice

Alternated Tango

A rope of Hope in sheets of Tomorrow.

Photo by Alice



Music : You Tangle With Me - Black Tape for a Blue Girl

If not a Crocodile...?!

Pantheologic Red Moon

Photo by Alice

Music : Eclipse - Arbre Noir

Dj’s oven

Please…bake some music Cookies!

Photo by Alice

Easy Catch

When the butter flies into a bread of lies.

Photo by Alice

Goodbye Shortcuts

Leaving the Sailors of heritage, on vulgarity ports.

Photo by Alice

Perpetual End

Mingled Unification.

Photo by White Rabbit

Quadriculas de Rodin

Oh, se eu não fizesse nada só por preguiça! Meu Deus, que respeito teria por mim. E teria esse respeito, precisamente, porque era capaz, pelo menos, de ter preguiça; haveria em mim, pelo menos, a certeza de uma característica definida. Se perguntassem de mim: quem é? E respondessem: um mandrião - isso ser-me-ia extremamente agradável de ouvir. Quer dizer que tinha uma característica determinada, logo, era possível dizer algo de mim. «Mandrião!» - mas isso é um título, um cargo, uma carreira.

Photo by Alice

Onde foram todos esses sábios buscar a ideia de que o homem precisa de uma qualquer vontade normal e virtuosa? Por que razão fantasiaram eles que é indispensável ao homem uma vontade sensatamente vantajosa? O que o homem precisa é só de uma vontade independente, custe o que custar e leve aonde levar esta independência. E saber-se lá que Diabo de vontade é essa...

(Fiódor Dostoiévski)

Crooked Sugar

"Footsteps Cream"

Photo by Alice

Music : Washer - Slint

Cations and Anions

"Low values of internal self-discharge, must be included in the City Equation."

Photo by Alice

Music : Every Day Pressure - Pleq

Medusa's Hair

"Mastering the Mirror"

Photo by Alice

Dandelion Isotope

"Epidermic Disambiguation"

Photo by Alice

Street of Straight Hats

"Clouds of Divided Heads."
Photo by the Mad Hatter

Music : Misty - Stan Getz

Elapsed Country Yard

A place where tones sneak under the caps of the Unformed heads, I walked.

Photo by Alice

In the middle of Water-Base voices, my ears stooped in chisel sounds and tried to talk. But the lips moved away on a trip for the…

Distorted characters looked behind no Eyes in the faces of nowhere, and no words I could taste.

I sat and wait for the Answerers in the hollow dirt, full of missing points and dead ends.
The Bucolic Worm was coming for the season, to devour sins made of clay. So was draw in the prophetic mist.
The Answerers start sewing their hands on the ground, frightened and tremulous with a red wire.
No hands can be free.

I stared in motion of steps.
Following the beats of Air.
A glare…

I laid my back in this pulsing earth, looking trough, no wavelength sky.
My thoughts concealed and some frumpy clouds started to rain in monosyllabic beings.
Go…
No…
Stop…

The Me in She was no He in Him.

I was seeing with my head not with my eyes.

Skins of ashes were falling down, slowly into the magnetic snow.
Icy corpses were melting in colors and shades of the past sentences.
And sunny drops started to flow into the river.
The dendritic spines of mud, as they called it.

All the vanishing concepts of reality were drowning…

Time is now a forgotten name in this space.

Music : Ghosts on Magnetic Tape II - Bass Communion

Growing inside a Winter Day

"Darkness is just an Osiris seed Shape, which you can’t dare to plant.

Photo by Alice

Afraid of the glowing growing that could bloom in elderly moment?"

Music : D'Inverno - Luigi Rubino

Monochordic Poison

The drugging words that you write in the Illusionary dictionary are just flickering pills. Don’t keep your empty bookshelf under your tongue...

...take another quarter line in your vein.

Photo by Alice and White Rabbit

The chemical constructions inside Your written flesh are intoxicating me.

No waiting…

…I’m going to take another pill.

Music : Bring Down the Sky - Miranda Sex Garden

The Fat Dancer

A hole on the letter, you forget to write.
Hide your opulency in a fat movement.
Swing the happy cartilage like a cockroach,
And sing to the aged wood liquor.

The big Black Lady is always open,
Like a Babylon whore playing an old tune.
Dance you life away, until she kisses you,
On the mouth of Love’s End.

Music : Big Black Mariah - Tom Waits

*All Photos by Alice

Layered Shell

"Floating like numbers in the mathematics of Universe, we chase the equations in the brain of

the Void.
Photo by Alice

Jump into the circumference and find...

...a geometric feeling inside."

Music : Standing in Silence pt. 3 - Rhian Sheehan

Seeing in Two Opposites

The White cotton, in the face of a gun.

She’s very pale and he’s too dark.

A decisive distance of a Black Hole.

Just close the…

Photo by White Rabbit

Music : Open Eyes - Miranda Sex Garden

Pudding

"A little Boat laying down in your spoon."

Photo by Alice atrás do Espelho

Fluffy Wall

"Sleeping Dialogue in two Vibrations"

Photo by A. and W.R.

Music : Decompression - Lustmord

Alive!

Photo by Alice atrás do Espelho

Music : Breath Control - Recoil

Little Signs

in the Black

Photo by the White Rabbit

Last Night

Alice escaped, through a leak from the window of my drunken soul.

Photo by the White Rabbit

Right now, all I know is that she’s running wildly in Silent Hedges. Hope that someday she’s coming back.

The White Rabbit

Music : Silent Hedges - Bauhaus

Cutting Wine

"Detachment of a drunken Glass made of She"

Photo by the White Rabbit



Music : She's in Parties - Bauhaus

All alone....

"...in the bone!"

Photo by the White Rabbit

Bleak

Photo by Alice atrás do Espelho

Neck to neck!

"Battlefield of a Natural Warrior!"

Photo by Alice atrás do Espelho



Music : The Demon God - Joe Hisaishi