⌉|⌈ – Für Alina

In 1976 — a year hardened by a big exodus within European confines, Alina, then eighteen years of age, left Tallin, Estonia, for a more promising life in England. Shipping in embrace with her father, she left only her mother, who was left in solitude. Arvo Pärt, by then a long-time friend of the family, syphoned from his years of composing and wove one of the most influential and sumptuous works of musical minimalism — Für Alina, the emblem of his tintinnabuli stylistic approach. Music, unlike any other basilar-Art, envelops and takes command of a singular sense perception, and opposite to what modernistic music-videos would have you believe, Music itself pylons above little else than sound. Any aesthetic extension is dismissible to the gestalt of a piece. If a composition cannot support itself, a music-video has no worth, and shan’t amend the issue, since it is not constituent to the Art at-hand. There is, however, a very important semblance of

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SATURNO (english poetry)

I’m including numbered lines in case anyone wants to comment on a verse without having to copy it, since these are images. I’ve never realised until now how hard I was making it for you. That aside, this is another one of those decompressing compositions, but I quite like this one, it makes sense to me. JOHNNY

CATATUMBO (english poetry)

Partially a product of Poetic Lab #1, but it would be more adequate to say it displays power in imagery more so than power in layered time-frames. Regardless, I have much to grow and learn, so soon enough, I hope to develop the ability to control these better. JOHNNY

Queda do Dia em Texto (para P.R. CUNHA)

Quem me trata p’lo meu nome saberá que o meu forte não é a prosa. O meu pensamento é poético, versado, quase que se divide sozinho dentro de mim. A meio de ler a obra de Paulo Cunha, alguém que guardo como um fabuloso amigo, deparei-me muitas vezes com memórias de tons existencialistas e decididos. Fui escrevendo, também eu, algumas dessas. Não chego aos pés do meu adorado Cunha, mas confesso gostar muito de escrever pequenos textos de vez em quando, e desta vez, fi-lo por causa dele, achando justo que a ele o atribua. Cunha, meu amigo tropical, que encontres alguma beleza nas minhas humildes palavras: PORVENTURA A música é o movimento da mais pura adoração. Sei das primeiras vezes que havia tocado nas teclas envernizadas d’um piano, lembro-me da sua escala de notas me ser natural, já a sabia antes de a ter aprendido, pois fazia sentido. As notas – essas – são sentimentos tangíveis, e quando nos

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