29 de novembro de 2009

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

24 de novembro de 2009

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)

22 de novembro de 2009

Crooked Sugar

"Footsteps Cream"

Photo by Alice

Music : Washer - Slint

21 de novembro de 2009

Cations and Anions

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

Photo by Alice

Music : Every Day Pressure - Pleq

16 de novembro de 2009

Medusa's Hair

"Mastering the Mirror"

Photo by Alice

15 de novembro de 2009

Dandelion Isotope

"Epidermic Disambiguation"

Photo by Alice

Street of Straight Hats

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

Music : Misty - Stan Getz

14 de novembro de 2009

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.

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

12 de novembro de 2009

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

8 de novembro de 2009

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

2 de novembro de 2009

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