Fotos: Chronosfer. Noite, luz opaca, chão, galhos de árvores, sombras. O grafismo, o desenho deles, os galhos, criam obras abstratas. Ou não. Cada um olha e faz sua leitura com o coração repleto de vida. A noite apenas dava seus primeiros sinais.
Night, opaque light, ground, tree branches, shadows. The graphics, the drawing of them, the branches, create abstract works. Or not. Each one looks and does his reading with a heart full of life. The night only gave its first signs.
Last night, my eyes watered like a storm. Milton Nascimento visited his 50 years of singer and composer. From friendship to the soul of each one of us. The Auditorium convulsed by man crosses the times with his songs and voice has created a climate of peace and harmony and understanding of the living of the present day. Moments of magic, enchantment and discernment. Called by the Indians of Campo Grande, Mato Grosso do Sul, Seed of Earth, he sowed his sensibility there. Be the water of my eyes able to germinate your dreams that are also mine. Thank you very much, Milton, for being part of my life.
Fotos: Chronosfer. O olhar recebe todos os dias os tempos vividos. Olha muitas vezes triste para o passado, acolhe o presente e alimenta a esperança do futuro. O olhar vive o tempo. O tempo nem sempre vive o olhar os olhos de quem olha.
The gaze receives the lived times every day. He looks often sad for the past, welcomes the present and feeds the hope of the future. Look lives time. Time does not always live the look of the eyes of the beholder.
Walking the streets is more than keeping track of the eyes. The look crystallizes moments. moments are many fragments of what we live. And what we live in soon is memory. In the same day life is lived with the eyes.
The passage from time to time through the day is fascinating. The dream strengthens the desire for reality and on the other side of the world the colors vibrate. The new is always possible.
The interior of the cities reserves other interiors. Nature still pure, far from human action, the railway approaching distances and dreams, margins of life whose waters is living. autumn and its colors producing the wines of the day. the old building as a witness of a time that seems stopped at the same time. The interior is a place for dreams to dream the reality of yesterday.
Fotos: Chronosfer. O tempo passa para outra estação e os nossos corações batem juntos em algum lugar. Lugar onde encontraremos o infinito da paz e dos sonhos.
Time passes to another season and our hearts beat together somewhere. Place where we will find the infinite of peace and dreams.
Mobile photos. The memory of affection is forgotten. It inhabits a little visited space. Inside all of us. The past seems to be just a time gone by. Their marks, lives, experiences, stories, testimonies are just sand by the sea waiting for the next wave. The memory does not want to be forgotten. It’s part of who we are. It is what we are. History is a future that still exists.
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