Search among Armando Taborda's articles

I speak of the rain that fell on the sidewalk and shadows diving in ponds as if our own but they only are from the surrounding landscape Falo da chuva que tombou na calçada e das sombras que mergulham nos charcos como se fossem nossas mas são apenas

The very urban creator' spirit of Carlos Alexandre roams through Lisbon, Paris, Hamburg, Chicago, New York and other great cities. Soon after he internalizes the collected images in his photographic unconscious and transforms them into recent

The obsessions of Nick Cave are also mine God Love Death persistently walk around my day's memory under the rhythm of music listen in the 9th floor of a building at Republic Avenue from where sirens sound any time as if in the

The cancer is born without a cry sudden and perverse blossom beauty of killing poppies which liquefy the body rough red sea of pain by seconds minutes hours days months years centuries millennia eternity in the heart pulse and tears drop

LET IT BE Idiot let it be! Don't think intellectually on life that runs away from you sterile misunderstood. Laugh like them from culture. Disdain from art and poetry. Fill you up with the futile life they live

Islet of Rolas (São Tomé and Príncipe) The space of unheard beauty nullify us! Earth-sea-life of micro-macro luxuriant beauty lock us up in surprise of silence persistent echo of the initial night. The besieged thought never

SPOILS Sun illuminates scars varicoses and other life's fragments. On the field battle slows down weapons keep quiet canteens are empty. Distended combatants take off the boots massage the feet badly cautious against the flight of

I float at the epicenter of useless ideas in this day of heavy rain in mid-May as a remembrance that "El Niño" could destroy the Earth and all protective technology will also be useless as my soul suffocated by gusts of the body depression Flutuo no

A notebook is always useful to replace the tired memory full of useless spots and cretinous youtubes that alienate us even if we constrain ourselves to watch on the computer' screen without conviction or to peek through the bathroom wicket Um bloco de

I sink into the couch pliable connoisseur of the body in my weight's gravity at the concave without elasticity due to the repeated movement and because writing has no weight the couch doesn't know that besides the body there is the lightness

by Huguette Helmann (represented at Art Gallery / Espaço AmArte), oil on canvas The soul denudes when the body wears desire. /// A alma desnuda-se quando o corpo se veste de desejo. by Armando TABORDA, in "SINFONIA EM DOR

In the cruel presence of solitude at the white silence of my shadow in the wall my mind is also whitewashed falls asleep into a cradle of white light and when awakes from fresh water determines itself wild lucid deceives me with searched

Isn't a bird who wants to be inflate the lungs with air roll the arms and legs as a ship hull pack the pneumatic bones of thought climb to the top of the Clérigos Tower and throw yourself by the flight's end you will have no return Não é pássaro

Amnesia sounds persecute your gutter's memory. Hybrid parables meddle in the allegro moderato of the initial daybreak fantastic inhibited suffered repeated and from being so beautiful the second movement still repeats the

It rains on Madeira. I become bored at this land emerged from the Atlantic by irony of a sinking continent against the submerged silence. Light first trees after Gonçalves Zarco after people after tourists at last with smiles of white

The soul of my dog went to the sky all dead' s kennel. Suddenly at full gallop perplexed spots black and white wag the solitary tail of my grief. A alma do meu cão foi para o céu canil de todos os mortos.

Art is the unfinished form colour word sound. It's monument painting poem text music in the absolute time of its creation and a simple picture after done or immortalized. (to read the original Portuguese

SUBMERGED MORNING Morning goes through the window inside unsuitable intruder in my night's memory as it was intimate in the daily repetition habit. Because all repetition is monotonous despite the sun' shine I know the light

My solitude leaves me alone takes impulse from the Toccata & Fugue in D Minor of Bach to travel space through and when comes back to my sleepy body it's unable to come in. Minha solidão deixa-me só aproveita a Tocata e

Scream sound's bird flying over the air of my day magic vibration of scents sounding through the fascination´s memory where I want to live. Because to hug you is so strong that I close my arms upon your absence. Because to kiss you is

Light orthorhombic crystal slow cars refraction at the point of passage of the axial cross. Traffic lights scintillate green red yellow hope love fear sorrows and joys of life day after day repeated driving inhibition

I watch the sea from here I am a swelled wave at the life' surf of other bodies in rubber-suits and hair of algae and salt still diving even if the wave forgets the sea that pushes her away. Avisto o mar daqui sou onda

DAY STARTS COLD AND CLOUDY THE YESTERDAY'S PAIN REMAINS IN THE SOUL EVEN SO ITS FEELING DOESN'T BELONG THERE /// O DIA COMEÇA FRIO E NUBLADO A DOR DE ONTEM CONTINUA NA ALMA MESMO NÃO SENDO LÁ QUE SE FAZ SENTIR by, Armando

It's a grey day mild I become sleepy not from wine but from aging that inebriates my remains of health vitality and movement in meantime my memory doesn't feel sorry because after lunch falls asleep. Está um dia cinzento cálido fico sonolento não

I don't know if what I am is this sadness I feel all surroundings are jazz's music I hear at a Manhattan Avenue in Lisboa my city of light and shadows the hills leave in the soul this night's time so far away from everything so close to

I am alone only writing is my companion such a caress in the afternoon' silence and void loneliness despite raining outside the window and the open umbrellas in the street from the crowd walking away in the end not far from the sofa where I nod in

Reading Kim MOORE is like being surprised by a glass of fresh water when one is thirsty. Her book "IF WE COULD SPEAK LIKE WOLVES" was chosen as a Book of the Year 2012 in The Independent but I don't care of prizes and nominations. What is important is the

I DO NOT KNOW IF WHAT I SEE IS LIGHT OR DARKNESS NOT EVEN IF THE INDEFINITE AND OBSCURE OUTLINE OF THE HORIZON WITHIN MY REACH IS THE THRESHOLD BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH NÃO SEI SE O QUE VEJO É LUZ OU ESCURIDÃO NEM SEQUER SE O CONTORNO INDEFINIDO E OBSCURO