The Hundred-Foot Journey

There are only two things I really (like, really!) miss when days get too oddly busy to do the things I wholeheartedly appreciate in life: photographing (new places or not) and watching movies. For the first, let's also blame it on the day time this time of the year, coming home always dark doesn't really help...

Anyway, let's talk about The Hundred-Foot Journey, my delight this morning! An ode to all senses.

You know the smell is the sense through which our memories can be revived and "reactivated" more easily and profoundly. Not even our vision can recall memories as much as the scents can do (parfum, food, wood, houses, the sea, etc.), so I'd like to accentuate an apparently simple moment in the movie where Hassan (Manish Dayal) smells some spices gifted to him by her mom long ago and the immediate emotion provoked on him when he smells it again. It's beautiful! It also helps the great photography and recording work done in this movie.
Beyond the smell and taste awareness, the location of the movie and its landscapes complete the journey - Saint-Antonin-Noble-Val - south of France (bliss!) brings me the most unforgettable memories too...
Last but not least, I loved the sensibility of the text.

"Food is memories"

Days riding the bike are happy days!

More here.

Mini water portraits

Pateira.

I've always been a very good judge of people. That's why I like so few of them.

Donna VanLiere

Inspiration

I was following some Tumblr pages without noticing its website, I didn't have an account so I was using it individually, that was until I realized I had like 5 tabs opened (not too much though!) all from Tumblr and I decided I should join and have access to it all in one window. They were/are not personal blogs, just a sum of charming photos endlessly reblogged (that's why I never know the source of the images there). Turns out, I'm now following a few more and everytime I open my account it's like Christmas everyday with a dashboard full of beautiful and inspirational images! Reason why I decided to share some here, because that's my mood today.

Also, I found it the perfect platform (until I do something better!) to organize my own photos, my favorites ones - taken by me or of me taken by someone else - in one place, with less talk and more focus on photographs only. Here.

Photos ?

Milan Christmassy

Throwback 2012.

More here & here.

Pinhão revive

Pinhão "part I" was already shown here, at the exact time of my last visit in 2012, but now I feel like throwback to one of my favorite places in Portugal. Alijó, Pinhão, Douro.
Time to go back.

 

Photos: Mafalda

More here & here.

Oh well!...

December is in and I'm feeling cozy today, dreaming of a place with snow, hot drinks, warm blankets and nothing to think about but what's in front of my eyes...

Oh well, imagine no further, my dear! That's just what's on the menu today! (!) I mean, honestly, does this place even exist?!

Lake Placid, New York

Photos: LANGLOIS Photo

Já gastámos as palavras pela rua, meu amor, 
e o que nos ficou não chega

para afastar o frio de quatro paredes.

Gastámos tudo menos o silêncio.

Gastámos os olhos com o sal das lágrimas,

gastámos as mãos à força de as apertarmos,

gastámos o relógio e as pedras das esquinas

em esperas inúteis.

Meto as mãos nas algibeiras e não encontro nada.

Antigamente tínhamos tanto para dar um ao outro;

era como se todas as coisas fossem minhas:

quanto mais te dava mais tinha para te dar.

Às vezes tu dizias: os teus olhos são peixes verdes.

E eu acreditava.

Acreditava,

porque ao teu lado

todas as coisas eram possíveis.

Mas isso era no tempo dos segredos,

era no tempo em que o teu corpo era um aquário,

era no tempo em que os meus olhos

eram realmente peixes verdes.

Hoje são apenas os meus olhos.

É pouco, mas é verdade,

uns olhos como todos os outros.

Já gastámos as palavras.

Quando agora digo: meu amor,

já se não passa absolutamente nada.

E no entanto, antes das palavras gastas,

tenho a certeza

que todas as coisas estremeciam

só de murmurar o teu nome

no silêncio do meu coração.

Não temos já nada para dar.

Dentro de ti

não há nada que me peça água.

O passado é inútil como um trapo.

E já te disse: as palavras estão gastas. 

Adeus.

Eugénio de Andrade

There is magic in the crisp and cold air this time of the year

I am made for autumn. Summer and I have a fickle relationship, but everything about Autumn is perfect to me. Wooly jumpers, Wellington boots, scarves, thin first, then thick, socks. The low slanting light, the crisp mornings, the chill in my fingers, those last warm sunny days before the rain and the wind. Her moody hues and subdued pallate punctuated every now and again by a brilliant orange, scarlet or copper goodbye. She is my true love.

Alys Fowler