why wait

And why wait another day
When a day won’t change a thing


der himmel über berlin

Wim Wenders | 1987

Wim Wenders | 1987

When the child was a child, it was the time of these questions. Why am I me, and why not you? Why am I here, and why not there? When did time begin, and where does space end? Isn’t life under the sun just a dream? Isn’t what I see, hear, and smell just the mirage of a world before the world? Does evil actually exist, and are there people who are really evil? How can it be that I, who am I, wasn’t before I was, and that sometime I, the one I am, no longer will be the one I am?


wings of desire

Wim Wenders | 1987

Wim Wenders | 1987

It’s great to live by the spirit, to testify day by day for eternity, only what’s spiritual in people’s minds. But sometimes I’m fed up with my spiritual existence. Instead of forever hovering above I’d like to feel a weight grow in me to end the infinity and to tie me to earth. I’d like, at each step, each gust of wind, to be able to say “Now.” Now and now” and no longer “forever” and “for eternity.” To sit at an empty place at a card table and be greeted, even by a nod. Every time we participated, it was a pretense. Wrestling with one, allowing a hip to be put out in pretense, catching a fish in pretense, in pretense sitting at tables, drinking and eating in pretense.

Wings of Desire


my palace

You were simpler,
you were lighter when we thought like little kids.
Like a weightless, hate-less animal,
beautifully oblivious before you were hid inside a stranger you grew into,
as you learned to disconnect.

Now he hangs your mirrors separately,
so one can’t show you what the other reflects.

When he heard I was on his tail, he emptied your account and hid a part of you that’s so invaluable
(the part of you unsellable at any amount).
He left the tallest peak of your paradise
buried in the bottom of a canyon in hell,

but I swear I’ll find your light in the middle,
where there’s so little late at night, down in the pit of the well.

Then when heaven has a line around the corner,
we shouldn’t have to wait around and hope to get in
if we can carpenter a home in our heart right now
and carve a palace from within.

We won’t need to take a ton of pictures,
It won’t be easy to believe
the day we wake inside a secret place that everyone can see.



© 2014 | Bernardo Martins

(…) é evidente que uma pessoa “tem certas sensações sinestésicas” mas como podem elas descrever-se a “não ser, talvez, através de gestos?” Como transformar sensações cinestésicas em substantivos, adjectivos e verbos?
A melhor forma de descrever sensações cinestésicas talvez seja então dizer: faz isto, faz este movimento; e sente. E não a descrição verbal: eu senti isto, depois aumentou a intensidade disto, etc., etc.

Gonçalo M. Tavares
in Atlas do Corpo e da Imaginação