My birthday cam!! Sony Alpha A200. Got it for R$300 cheaper than other places i saw, and am now having an absolute blast trying it out on things i used to have problems photographing. ^_^
sábado, 29 de agosto de 2009
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"A man can no more diminish God's glory by refusing to worship him than a lunatic can put out the sun by scribbling the word 'darkness' on the walls of his cell."
~ C. S. Lewis
Arquivo do blog
deviantArt of the day
there
there’s a lost kite in the Sky
i stand on my swing
and stare
a lost kite
in the dusk of august
in the clouds
cold
space
someone’s holding it there
two palms and a pine swing as i swing
as the ripe jasmine blossoms
ice in the evening
white as my knuckles
‘round round on the chains
as i swing
like the palm branches
swaying in the august evening
stare at that Sky lost kite
your will holds it there
but your love
your love couldn’t tear it down
my heart soars with it
in this bitter cold wind
swinging the two palms and the pine
while my knuckles pale and my cheekbones rose
and your hair blows against your forehead
and stare
your love put me there, high
lost in the grey
swinging, soaring in the dusk
blushing like newborn city lights
it falls, night falls
on the soaring lost kite in the biting grey Sky
the lights in my head in the kitchen
behind you and I
the reflection
my cheekbones burn red and still that wind bites
an unlike tender as your call
and the thoughts that escape once again fall
fall from the kite
i stand on my swing
and stare
a lost kite
in the dusk of august
in the clouds
cold
space
someone’s holding it there
two palms and a pine swing as i swing
as the ripe jasmine blossoms
ice in the evening
white as my knuckles
‘round round on the chains
as i swing
like the palm branches
swaying in the august evening
stare at that Sky lost kite
your will holds it there
but your love
your love couldn’t tear it down
my heart soars with it
in this bitter cold wind
swinging the two palms and the pine
while my knuckles pale and my cheekbones rose
and your hair blows against your forehead
and stare
your love put me there, high
lost in the grey
swinging, soaring in the dusk
blushing like newborn city lights
it falls, night falls
on the soaring lost kite in the biting grey Sky
the lights in my head in the kitchen
behind you and I
the reflection
my cheekbones burn red and still that wind bites
an unlike tender as your call
and the thoughts that escape once again fall
fall from the kite
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desculpa a demora...Há 17 anos
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Apple Seeds & Love
Life whistles serenely.
What am I saying?
I’ve got an apple in my hand and a juicy chunk in my mouth.
I wish I had an apple tree with apple seeds,
And that apple seeds were a currency.
What am I saying?
My hand sweats when you hold it.
I wish true love were buyable, unexpirable,
The kind we can take for granted,
And that apple seeds were a currency.
Do you hear me laughing?
I think I used to say the same.
I wish our smiles cost a penny each,
You’d die poor, I’m sure,
But if apple seeds were a currency,
And true love were buyable, unexpirable,
I’d marry you for free.
Do you get what this means?
Hold my pinky for a while.
I wish this rain could melt us like sugar,
And that the Earth were diabetic,
You’d be wrapped around my pinky as we sank,
We would kill and die, penniless and poor,
And true love would still not be buyable, unexpirable,
And apple seeds… who’s to say?
by Hendrika Lopes
What am I saying?
I’ve got an apple in my hand and a juicy chunk in my mouth.
I wish I had an apple tree with apple seeds,
And that apple seeds were a currency.
What am I saying?
My hand sweats when you hold it.
I wish true love were buyable, unexpirable,
The kind we can take for granted,
And that apple seeds were a currency.
Do you hear me laughing?
I think I used to say the same.
I wish our smiles cost a penny each,
You’d die poor, I’m sure,
But if apple seeds were a currency,
And true love were buyable, unexpirable,
I’d marry you for free.
Do you get what this means?
Hold my pinky for a while.
I wish this rain could melt us like sugar,
And that the Earth were diabetic,
You’d be wrapped around my pinky as we sank,
We would kill and die, penniless and poor,
And true love would still not be buyable, unexpirable,
And apple seeds… who’s to say?
by Hendrika Lopes