Bougainvilleas

FullSizeRender.jpg-2

Advertisements

Fragility

“Some women feel the need to act like they’re never scared, needy or hurt; like they’re as hardened as a man. I think that’s dishonest. It’s ok to feel delicate sometimes. Real beauty is in the fragility of your petals. A rose that never wilts isn’t a rose at all.”

Crystal Woods

DSC_0103

DSC_0100

Just Make Something

I’ve been succeed in doing this project that I have idealized in my mind long time ago and I am so happy with the results. Now, I’ve a place to hang beautiful things like old paper ephemera, letters that I am currently writing to my dear pen pals, letters that I’ve received, bouquets with gypsophilas… I’ve placed this frame in my working place, and certainly it will help me to be more creative and inspired by the little treasures that hang there. Our hands are really an amazing gift that the universe offered us… I feel that the reason that we are alive is to create beauty and things that bring us and the ones that we love joy: Small things, the best things…

P.s – Soon will be a video showing how to do this frame, is pretty simple and I don’t even know if I am able to show it, but I will try.

 

DSC_0054

The Lucky Clover

Yesterday was being a normal day for me, until I’ve found this four-leaf clover among the plain ones. This discovery reflected a smile on my face and I must confess that it is the first lucky clover that I’ve found in my whole life… I am feeling very powerful right now, and to preserve it, I decided to place it inside of my nature journal.

 

Love Series: A letter to Isa

 

Dear Isa,

are these unreasonable thoughts of yours? and are mine these awaken nights in these stripped sheets?

How long do I write you nothing more than words? There is a cigarette that blends in the wind and there is a time that badly fades. Don’t suffer, Isa, don’t suffer, my love… There is a moon that lights more than the night and a thought. A perfect feeling for you.

Francisco.

Querida Isa:

são teus esses pensamentos despropositados e são minhas estas noites acordadas em tamanhos lençóis despidos.

Há quanto tempo não te escrevo mais do que palavras? Há um cigarro que se confunde com o vento e há um tempo mal-apagado. Quantos filtros serão precisos para que deixe de doer? não sofras, Isa, não sofras, meu amor, não sofras no trago amargo desse cinzeiro esfumado. Há uma mortalha que se acende sempre no sopro bem-enrolado daquilo que não compreendes. entre a noite e o dia, há muito que não te digo. Uma lua que acende, mais do que a noite e pensamento. Um sentimento perfeito. Amo-te muito. xx

Francisco.

P.s – These letters are real and the love, that one… was beyond the reality.

Love series by The Candour Cabin 

DSC_0118 (1)