Paulo Seabra

Yeah, well... sometimes the Gospel can be a real cool book. I'm of course referencing the 1967 classic Cool Hand Luke, one of my favorite films of all time. And, as it is often the case with me, this is a film I didn't really care for upon first viewing. Now I obviously think differently. In many ways, this is a movie made beautiful by it's simplicity. It is made visually striking by its backdrop of natural southern beauty in the US – the everlasting summer, the seemingly abandoned train tracks and the long dirt roads, almost fully deserted were it not for the prisoners working by the fields... It almost gives off the impression that there is no world beyond that road. And maybe as part of that isolation, the story doesn't shy away from grit. It is dirty, grimy and hence, it is real. Some modern movies seem to have an obsession with polishing every pixel of every frame, thus giving off a distinct sense of falsehood. The movie then becomes too colorful, too vibrant, it...

This poem was something of a revelation to me. I discovered it sometime in august of 2014, when summer was still in full swing, and yet, as I eagerly awaited its end, something drew me towards a book of winter landscapes, that is to say, a book of Robert Frost. I just knew two things about the man – one was the poem about the famous two roads in a yellow wood, the other was that he had a cool name. So I impulsively ordered the book, briefly forgot about it until it arrived, and when it did I immediately skimmed through the first pages. And at least in my version, My November Guest is on page six. I'm now reminded of something the pious often talk about, namely the idea that when they present a person with a holy book, they can immediately tell within the first pages whether or not that person will believe. It's almost instinctive, it's something that bypasses all reason, the book just speaks to us or it doesn't. For me that rarely happens but it did when reading Rober...

I don't believe in God, I don't follow any religion. And yet, there was a time in my life when I could have said to be more of an atheist than I am now. In some ways I contributed to the new atheism movement, and in fact, for a little while there, Christopher Hitchens was my lord and savior. I greatly admired his extensive literary knowledge, his eloquence, his wit and his bravery. But now I've come to realize his eloquence was his double-edged sword, and because he criticized religion mostly from an ethics standpoint, greatly enhanced by his journalism background, some of the more philosophical questions and their implications were somewhat forgotten, or even dealt with in a little bit of sophistry. And now it's sad that he died... I for one would have loved to know what he would have said in these times when atheism seems to have gained territory, and yet people are deeply craving meaning and direction in their lives. In a nutshell, I think Hitchens versus Peterson wo...

Dá-me a mão e vem comigo. Temos tantos lugares para ver. Era assim que escrevia o Bernardo numa página à parte, em pleno contraste com tantas outras páginas soltas e enamoradas de ilustrações coloridas, nas quais eram inteligíveis as suas várias tentativas de idealizar uma rapariga de cabelo castanho-claro, ou talvez vermelho, e com uns olhos grandes que pareciam evocar uma aura de mistério e de aventura, e com os braços estendidos na sua frente, terminando em mãos delicadas que se enlaçavam uma à outra, como se as suas palmas fossem uma concha do mar que guarda uma pérola imperfeita, como se cuidasse de um pássaro caído que tem pena de libertar, como se desafiasse um gesto tímido... Mas tal criação ficava sempre aquém daquilo que o Bernardo visualizava na sua mente. Na verdade não passava sequer de um protótipo mas havia algo ali, uma intenção, uma faísca com tanto potencial para deflagrar no escuro da página branca... se porventura ele fosse melhor artista. E embora a obra carecesse ...