Quem é

quem é você?
não sei, respondi. só alguém que te amou há uns poucos anos.
me toquei no braço, lentamente
e agora?
é fato que as pessoas não se mudam

Two Ceramic Bowls Stuck Together?

Fill the cavity between them with water.  Place in freezer.  Rescue a few hours later, once the water between them as frozen.  With any luck, they'll have been popped apart by the ice as it grew.

Pop out the ice bowl that you've now created, put some fruit in it as a fun centerpiece and watch as it melts into oblivion.

Physics is magic.

Ode to Black Sesame

Dear tiny black seeds of deliciousness.  With your crunchy exteriors and deep nutty flavor that crackles between my teeth.  Fallen onto my t-shirt, you appear as lost children from some black sanded desert.  And I, a giant white strawberry, seeded on the outside.  I sit and I wonder, what kind of tahini would you make, marvelous dark and pasty.  I want to grind you up and then watch you dissolve, each and every last one, into a dark glorious paste of spreadable wonder.  Black, creamy taste of the far exotic spicy east.

Here is my imaginary black tahini recipe:  (the amounts given are pure fiction)


1 c. roasted black sesame seeds
1/2 c. oil, take your pick on variety.  probably not olive.

Roast the sesame seeds in the oven.  I did mine a bit hot, starting at 450 for a few minutes, and then quickly recanting on the whole idea of fire and damnation and settling them down to about 300 after 2 to 3 minutes.  They were probably in the oven for about 10 minutes total.  It's hard to tell since they're black to begin with, but I pulled them out they were starting to crackle up and a few had discolored to an ashen grey.  Try not to worry about them burning.

After the seeds are roasted, toss them into a food processor with a the oil, mix it up a bit to make sure the oil coats all of the seeds, and the process the hell out of them.  They should make a delicious heavy black paste.

Inertia

is getting through not just today, or just tomorrow, but the rest of eternity.

that is all.

she exhales when she says your name.  that is all.

bubble boy

The bubble burst.  The boy stepped out of its plastic hull, deflated, and looked around at the miles of empty land where he had come to rest.  Earth.  It seemed so limitless in every direction, stretching out the same in all directions.  Hard to know which direction to set out in, from where he was standing.  Hard to tell what adventures were waiting behind different corners of the unknown universe, with it just all out flat there.  Like it was waiting for some big men with plows to churn it up and give it direction in the form of a two lane high way, connecting two distant dots, unseeable, on the plane, an infinite set of points linked together, birthed of the nothingness that was just a piece of land at the moment.

But there was no road.

From here.  Where to?

doença

ce sabe o que voce tem, neh?

é a saudades de uma vida que não existe.  que nunca existiu.  um collage françesa de imagens, que voce já viu em alguns filmes japonês, fotos de Bali e as islas do caribê em uma revista de viagem.

sonhar é doença pura, meu.