quarta-feira, 22 de junho de 2011


Running has been a topic that many filmmakers and novelists have approached over the years.But what is it that makes the simple act of running such an interesting topic to approach?
Are there not many other athletics skills or events more interesting that would give great stories? Maybe! There are quite a few Artworks out there that depict athleticism and sports of all sorts from golf to boxing, to Skydiving and rock climbing and so on that narrate the story of true or fictional carachters that were known for their athletic prowess, or simply due to the fact that some filmmaker decided there was a story to be told about some sportsman or athlete out there.
However,what is it that still makes the act of running such an interesting topic for novelists and filmmakers to develop and elaborate? Simplest act in the world for anyone lucky enough to have both legs and a healthy heart.We have been doing it since we started taking our first steps without the aid of parental hands.We all have that memorable run in our minds were it from escaping someone or something that imposed danger to us,or to that run we made towards someone or something we called our prize or our loved one.
Most of us were for the first time challenged or challenged our teen aggressive peer for a run to see whom was faster.
Some few enjoy the act of running so much they do it every day for a number of hours,some do it just for the fun of it,some hate it and are obligated to do it,but most of us when we get older old that memory of how fast we were when we knew our prime.
Most of whom are deprived from the act of running due to health problems or some sort of incarceration, value the act of running sometimes more than life itself since it became an impossible task to achieve and because of its sheer representation of health or absolute freedom.
There are certain tribes in South America that even turned the act of running into a religion.Long distance runners are true wizards in the act of running and can share stories about it that most couch potatoes (that´s me,lol) would not even begin to understand.
Needless to say,there was still a lot more to be said about running...

The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner

The Jericho Mile

Chariots of Fire



segunda-feira, 13 de junho de 2011


If Fernando Pessoa were alive today he would celebrate his 123rd birthday!
Now like before, how can one claim true poetry just for oneself? All beautiful
things should never perish inside a box,they should be set free,they should blow in the wind.
For all things that blow in the wind will sooner or later find a place to rest and they shall call it home._BB

The Tagus is more beautiful than the river that flows through my village,
But the Tagus is not more beautiful than the river that flows through my village
Because the Tagus is not the river that flows through my village.

The Tagus has enormous ships,
And for those who see in everything that which isn't there
Its waters are still sailed
By the memory of the carracks.

The Tagus descends from Spain
And crosses Portugal to pour into the sea.
Everyone knows this.
But few know what the river of my village is called
And where it goes to
And where it comes from.
And so, because it belongs to fewer people,
The river of my village is freer and larger.

The Tagus leads to the world.
Beyond the Tagus there is America
And the fortune of those who find it.
No one ever thought about what's beyond
The river of my village.

The river of my village doesn't make one think of anything.
Whoever is next to it is simply next to it.

O Tejo é mais belo que o rio que corre pela minha aldeia,
Mas o tejo não é mais belo que o rio que corre pela minha aldeia
Porque o tejo não é o rio que corre pela minha aldeia,
O Tejo tem grande navios
E navega nele ainda,
Para aqueles que vêem em tudo o que lá não está,
A memória das naus.
O Tejo desce de Espanha
E o Tejo entra no mar em Portugal.
Toda a gente sabe isso.
Mas poucos sabem qual é o rio da minha aldeia
E para onde ele vai
E donde ele vem.
E por isso, porque pertence a menos gente,
É mais livre e maior o rio da minha aldeia.
Pelo Tejo vai-se para o Mundo.
Para além do Tejo há a América
E a fortuna daqueles que a encontram.
Ninguém nunca pensou no que há para além
Do rio da minha aldeia.
O rio da minha aldeia não faz pensar em nada.
Quem está ao pé dele está só ao pé dele.

quarta-feira, 1 de junho de 2011

Alive, He cried

Dear friends,hello.

I am very sorry for the long period without posting or giving news, but I´ve been experiencing some rather complicated personal and professional issues that kept me away from my obligations as a blogger (a bad one indeed).
I have also had some computer problems,since my last laptop went definitely KAPUT on me and is now at computer heaven.So only now I´ve been able to link myself to the Internet.
I would like to thank you all for your great patience,friendship and comments,and for sharing your time and ideas with this poor excuse of a blogger.

Your friend_BB

P.S. Meanwhile here is a small treat for those of you that like to travel and don´t know that much about Portugal.I found this great Virtual tour about the Jeronimos Monastery that I would like to share with you,so please click on the web link bellow.

I hope you enjoy the ride.

A todos os amigos(as) Portugueses(as) que têm sido tão generosos para comigo com o vosso tempo, mails,palavras de preocupação e afecto o meu mais profundo Obrigado.