Filosofia
- Language: The Cultural Tool, By Daniel L. Everett
Daniel Everett is a linguist who is best known for his studies of the language of the Pirahã people of the Amazon basin. His new book, Language: The Cultural Tool (Profile Books, £14.99),explores his theory that language isn't...
- Music | 7 Songs For Pillow Talk Time
Querida Sofia, Além das músicas para falar de amor e as dos momentos mais sexy, acho que um dos momentos na intimidade que mais pedem música são os momentos de Pillow Talk, vulgo "conversa de almofada". Para mim, este é momento mais precioso...
- "and Pillow Talk Turns Into ... Coffee In The Morning"
Querida Sofia, Como adoro calhar na música perfeita no momento perfeito. Uma amiga virtual recomendou-me ouvir Miguel no Instagram e descobri "Coffee". Mal posso esperar para criar as melhores das memórias ao longo desta letra maravilhosa e dinâmica. ...
- Yes, This One Is For You.
It took me a bit of time to accept the way things turned, sour and hopeful, jumping till the sky and then falling hard. I find it annoying when people say “some awful things have happened, but I cannot get into details”. Sometimes we would rather...
- I & U, Me & Ur Eyes.
http://www.rocknrollbride.com I am used to sterile stares and glances that lead me to the moon but do not lead me to the extremely coveted balance I have ever needed in my life. I know I am a sucker for commitment, have been since I gave engagement rings...
Filosofia
Almost a (perfect) man.
Dear Sophie,
I will never forget the day we first laid eyes on each other. I will never forget that day because it was one of the most touching things that has ever happened to me. We looked at each other and we both said, without really meaning to make a sound, "waw". From that moment on, we became almost inseparable. The hours talking and spending time together were countless. When I try to remember how he was, I have to make a little effort. I cannot explain if I remember him perfectly or if I completely forgot. He was perfect. He was magestic. He was like the greatest of greek mathematician, african warrior, respectable american Indian, the warmest of eskimos, the world's greatest. He was incredible in everything that he said or did. Everything he touched turned into gold. Every centimeter he touched in me melted into something chemical. He would finish my sentences, I would start his. When we danced, the club stopped. Wish this wasn't true, but it really happened. We prayed together, holding each other's opposite hand. We met in several countries but always felt at home because we were with each other's safest place. We looked into new houses together. We dealt with professional difficulties together. We pulled through some major hurdles together. We went to meetings together. We had a project to change the world together. Starting from our community, our city, our country. He spoke the same amount of languages and another one that belonged to us. We had a special social dance in which he would hold me in public and I would scream for him to let go of me because I am not into PDA. He dreamed of our children together constantly and would tell me about it daily. My reluctance to have kids was a playground for him to tackle and play on with his sandcastles. He hated France and started loving it. He hated blogs and started reading mine. He hated fashion and downloaded magazines to understand me. He disliked my kind of music and started buying it to hear it. And eventually he started loving it. He bought me jewelry but nothing could be as valuable as the heart I gave him, because it was the only one that I had. Everything was perfect. Life was blissful. When girlfriends said no man is good, I would pity them and exude that mine was. My man was good. Oh my God, was he my man? I loved when he confirmed he was. When he would text I love you at the end of every evening call, so that I could read first thing in the morning.
My perfect man, the man of everybody's dreams destroyed me. Violated me. Hurt me. Burnt me. Raped me. Humiliated me. Left me in the car after a major accident. And the living memory of all those events haunt me no matter how many weeks, months or years have passed. He was not almost perfect, I tell myself. He was just almost a man.
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- Language: The Cultural Tool, By Daniel L. Everett
Daniel Everett is a linguist who is best known for his studies of the language of the Pirahã people of the Amazon basin. His new book, Language: The Cultural Tool (Profile Books, £14.99),explores his theory that language isn't...
- Music | 7 Songs For Pillow Talk Time
Querida Sofia, Além das músicas para falar de amor e as dos momentos mais sexy, acho que um dos momentos na intimidade que mais pedem música são os momentos de Pillow Talk, vulgo "conversa de almofada". Para mim, este é momento mais precioso...
- "and Pillow Talk Turns Into ... Coffee In The Morning"
Querida Sofia, Como adoro calhar na música perfeita no momento perfeito. Uma amiga virtual recomendou-me ouvir Miguel no Instagram e descobri "Coffee". Mal posso esperar para criar as melhores das memórias ao longo desta letra maravilhosa e dinâmica. ...
- Yes, This One Is For You.
It took me a bit of time to accept the way things turned, sour and hopeful, jumping till the sky and then falling hard. I find it annoying when people say “some awful things have happened, but I cannot get into details”. Sometimes we would rather...
- I & U, Me & Ur Eyes.
http://www.rocknrollbride.com I am used to sterile stares and glances that lead me to the moon but do not lead me to the extremely coveted balance I have ever needed in my life. I know I am a sucker for commitment, have been since I gave engagement rings...