O Amor andava pelo ar.


Blogger Luis M. Jorge said...

Chama-se Alessandro Allori, Lutz.

12:18 da tarde  
Anonymous dreis said...

Gosto deste universo!

6:20 da tarde  
Anonymous pepe said...

"Why doesn't passionate love last? How is it possible to see a person as beautiful on Monday, and 364 days later, on another Monday, to see that beauty as bland?"

Biologically speaking, the reasons romantic love fades may be found in the way our brains respond to the surge and pulse of dopamine that accompanies passion and makes us fly.(...) Perhaps the neurons become desensitized and need more and more to produce the high_to put out pixie dust, metaphorically speaking.(...) More seriously, if the romantic love is akin to a mental illness or a drug induced euphoria, exposing yourself for too long could result in psycological damage.(...)

Oxitocin is a hormone that promotes a feeling of conection, bonding. It is released when we hug our long-term spouses, or our children. It is released when a mother nurses her infant. Prairie voles, animals with high levels of oxitocin, mate for live. When scientist block oxitocin receptors in these rodents, the animals don't form monogamous bonds and tend to roam.

In long-term relationships that work(...) oxytocin is believed to be abundant in both partners. In long-term relationships that never get off the ground,(...), or that crumble once the high is gone, chances are the couple has not found a way to stimulate or sustain oxytocin production.

"But there are things you can do to help it along, says Helen Fisher [anthropologist professor at Rutgers University] "Massage. Make love. These things trigger oxitocin and thus make you feel much closer to your partner."

This may be true. But it sounds unpleasant. It's exactly what your mother always said about vegetables:"Keep eating your peas. They are an acquired taste. Eventually, you will come to like them." But I have never been a peas person. in This thing called love by Lauren Slater/National Gegraphic Magazine February 2006

Que rompam as águas:

é dum corpo que falo.

Nunca tive outra pátria,

nem outro espelho,

nem outra casa


Um corpo amei,

um corpo, um rio,

um pequeno tigre de inocência,

com lágrimas

esquecidas nos ombros,


adormecidos nas pernas,

com extensas,


primaveras nas mãos.

Quem não amou

assim? Quem não amou?


Quem não amou

está morto.


Dum corpo falei:

que rompam as águas.

in Mar de Setembro Eugénio de Andrade/Limiar Editora 1977

5:50 da tarde  

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