And once again, Loss comes to greet me. "Hello", she says, when I suddenly notice her standing behind the door I carefully open. Her body is cloudy, diaphanous - she herself almost a ghost. Her eyes are the only part that can be seem, of a shiny black color, like black ink in white paper. Fascinating, they are. She comes in without asking for permission. _I've been avoiding you..._ I weakly protest. _I know. You always are. She looks around the house and touches objects, things that remind me of someone lost. Her cold breath spreads white steam. She stands in front of the mirror. _I didn't always look like this. _How were you, before? She suddenly changes into a little girl, blond braidings and vivid expression. Than turns into a teenage boy, black messy hair covering his eyes and a cigarette. She than become an old gentleman, all wrinkles and weak hands... _You are every single loss in this world._ I finally understand. She goes back to her old form, in si...
Jay's playlist: This is a playlist with most things I absolutely love in terms of music. First band/artist names, then one or more favorite songs by each, and a little comment in Portuguese on how I got to know this band and why I like it. Sorry English speakers, but don't be sad cause at the end there's a link to a youtube playlist I made with all of the stuff listed. If you would like to know me, if you already know me and want to learn more, if you feel like our hearts are connected through some magic force across the globe, or just wanna know some new music, here's the place to go. Might be subject to change as my taste changes. Playlist da Jay: Essa é uma playlist com a maior parte das coisas que eu amo em termos de música. Primeiro o nome da banda ou artista, depois uma ou mais músicas que eu gosto, e no final tem uma playlist do youtube com tudo que eu falo aqui para você ouvir. Se você me conhece, se quer me conhecer, se sente uma conexão comigo apesar da di...
I knew pigeons died in the same abstract way one knows, for example, that pedestrians die. You hear about it, you can rationalize the fact that it is true, they must sometimes die, considering the risks and all. But if you haven’t seen it happen, the idea is as thin as air. And if something is intangible, it’s as good as if it didn’t exist. That morning, the death of pigeons came into existence for me. Happily trotting along my usual path, I encountered a dead pigeon. Crushed would be a more accurate description. You could barely tell it was a pigeon, or that it had ever been one, if it weren’t for the wings. Two widespread white wings, plastered on the pavement, on top of the zebra crossing. There wasn’t blood, guts or any sort of gory evidence of its once-living nature; just two white wings and a gray mass where the body should have been. It seemed hopelessly poetic: wings that once crosse...
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