About 272 Search Result for username:"josebandeira"
My wife's country cousin Anilda lost her husband two years ago. He had a small rural property and she ran – still runs – a little tavern and grocery store in the hamlet where we also have a house. A few months ago, she become obssessed by the idea of paying Fernando, her late husband, a hommage. She had some local workers hired and started to convert the cellar of her house in a small rural museum. All kinds of utensils used in the fields and in the tavern from the end of the XIX century onwards were carefully cleaned and put on exhibition in the renewed rustic floor and walls of the cellar. In each object, she glued a sticker detailing, in a beautiful handwriting, its name and function. A kind of handwriting that became rare in the stressing times we are experiencing today – not to speak of technology. Cousin Anilda looks around with a gentle look. Then she asks us, her voice trembling, "He would have liked it, wouldn't he?"
Apart from the small inconvenience of a light headache in the morning, I've been sleeping very well for the last four or five days. This is due to a couple of miracle pills my doctor finally prescribed me. I had this apparently quite peculiar idea that sleeping two or three hours a day for as long as four months wasn't doing me any good. Worse: I suspected it could even be responsible for my exhaustion, irritability, lack of energy, anxiety and desire to eat raw parrots. It was for me a mistery, the fact that the 127,3 doctors I consulted were interested in these symptoms — and in the way to deal with them — but none asked me about my sleeping habits. And now for something completely different: My namesake J. Rentes de Carvalho, a Portuguese writer (and former adventurer, seaman, expat, you name it), established for decades in the Netherlands, where he teached Literature at a university, was in Lisbon last week to speak about his latest book at the city's annual book fair. We had exchanged e-mails before, and he had had the courtesy of sending me books — not his own, for I had read most of them already, but out of print vintage volumes — that he happened to find in his shelves and though would be of interest to me. He's my senior in more than 30 years and is what one would call a wise, experienced sage. I am proud of his friendship. We finally met, almost by chance, at the book fair. The loudspeakers were announcing he was signing his books at his editor's stand and we rushed to meet him. Unfortunately, it's difficult to talk when there are people waiting for their books to be signed (the pests!), so it ended up being an emotive but very brief encounter. He asked me how I was going. My wife answered for me. She said I was exhausted, irritable, unenergetic, and anxious (she omitted my habit of chasing all our neighbours tasty parrots). Rentes de Carvalho looked at me for a couple of seconds. Then he asked my wife: "Does he sleep?"
I never thought that I would live to see this again: mum reading my work at one of the newspapers I work for. The results of the eye operations were astounding – she can see better than me now (including a ridiculous stain of olive oil in my shirt). But Fortune and Fate are forever at strife with each other. Yesterday night, mum fell from the bed. She's unable to explain how. Today, she was almost completely deaf. The joy of seeing her read the newspaper again is counterbalanced by the fact that she's reading it at the urgency waiting room of an hospital.
I seem to have had a premonition when I published, yesterday, a photograph of a rather daunting corridor with a notice saying it was to be deleted. I ended up not deleting it. Without my knowing it, one of our most talented jazz musicians and composers, Bernardo Sassetti, had fallen from a cliff near the seaside village of Cascais, Portugal, while taking photographs. He was a lover of photography as well and said at an enterview that he would be very unhappy if his artistic and intellectual life was confined to music only. Besides photography, he was very interested in cinema and wrote several soundtracks for movies. He was married to the actress Beatriz Batarda, with whom he had two daughters. Bernardo Sassetti died today. "The gods love those who die young", the Greeks used to say. I guess it was for lack of a better excuse. This one light has gone out. Search for him on Youtube and iTunes. I'm sure you'll enjoy his talent.
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