A caminho de Milhazes pela ponte localizada na estrada CM1115.
Wearing a turban, his body covered with sandalwood ashes and painted with dye, his face decorated with an outline of a black beard, precariously wrapped in a ragged saffron robe, fastened on a piece of rope is a loincloth that pretends to hide his nakedness, with sacred beads and sequins around his neck, a gold chain looped on his right ankle, which makes him appear to be a young sadhu although he does not have any tilaka on his forehead, he walks through Rishikesh towards Haridwar.
A smile of pure satisfaction radiates from his face as his senses embrace the colors, smells and flavors of the spice stands that surround him.
Sitting near the bank of the Ganges River, wearing the shade of a tree, after having crossed the Laxman Jhula Bridge, he realizes how magnificent the smells of Rishikesh are and is proud to have chosen this pilgrimage route to the Maha Kumbha Mela. ‘It is incredible how in a crowd one can better perceive healthy solitude’ is the thought that arises before the undulating mystique of the Ganges River. It is this refuge that he needed and also the absorption of millennial energies.
It is almost sunset. The young sadhu rises and as he leaves behind the Ganges the aquatic magic is diluted harmoniously in the bustle of the metropolis and he feels like the link that unites the two landscapes. His readings taught him that there may be no chaos in chaos, as there may be no order in order, but these maxims begin to be broken when he is surrounded by a group of tourists who had hitherto been photographing the exterior of Trayambakeshwar.
‘A HOLY MAN!’ they shouted.
‘Holy? Where?’ he questions himself, but as he is pointed out by cell phones, he suspects that they think he is the saint, ‘crazy people!’
[… an excerpt …]
Apesar de ter criado uma história. Não a publico. Fica apenas a imagem de um lol tirolês.
Fotografia tirada com o carro em movimento.
Há algum tempo comentei com um conhecido que o blog o Pobo do Norte estava a desiludir-me. Gostei na altura que o descobri da verticalidade nos artigos.
Entendi, entretanto, que os posts começaram a ser tendenciosos. E este entendimento vale pelo que vale. É pessoal.
Mas, mesmo assim, continuo com a subscrição do Pobo do Norte em RSS, porque é um bom blog do Norte.
Quanto às armas brancas, a única que possuo é uma imagem de Nossa Senhora, oferecida, curiosamente por Margarida Prieto, nos tempos da capelinha da Luz, que me protege sempre que tenho de ultrapassar a Ponte Luiz I e entrar em terras do demo.
E ainda bem. Porque os comentários, como o supra citado, relacionados com o post No Shame Boys são pérolas autênticas. Dei umas boas e saudáveis gargalhadas.
Nathan Sawaya is a New York-based artist who creates awe-inspiring works out of some of the most unlikely things. His recent North American museum tours feature large-scale sculptures using only toy building blocks. LEGO® bricks to be exact.
Sawaya’s art is currently touring North American museums in a show titled, The Art of the Brick. It’s the only exhibition focusing exclusively on LEGO as an art medium. The creations, constructed from nearly one million pieces, were built from standard bricks beginning as early as 2000.
Um artista que usa um diferente meio de expressão: legos. Tem bastantes trabalhos espectaculares. Destaco o seguinte.
Mas no site do artista podem constantemente ser descobertos novos trabalhos.
imagem e citação copyright de Nathan Sawaya
content from wikipedia
The Dom Luís I Bridge (Portuguese: Ponte de Dom Luís I), or Luís I Bridge, is a double-deck metal arch bridge that spans the River Douro between the cities of Porto and Vila Nova de Gaia in Portugal. At its construction, its 172 metres (564 ft) span was the longest of its type in the world.
são regularmente gastos na produção e manutenção deste blog uns bons pedaços de caldo, suaves e frutadas cervejas.
my goal is to keep me satisfied!
porta VIII is my personal site. Grab a beer and sit tight.
Are you comfortable? Take a look around to the new stuff and adventure trough the archives. Cá me podem encontrar a percorrer o mesmo caminho; a arrotar bom dia, boa tarde, boa noite, e por vezes um até já.