#paulo de carvalho

[floresdoverdepinho]

Festival da Canção: Músicas vencedoras (1970-1979)

1970: Sérgio Borges - Onde Vais Rio Que Eu Canto* 1971: Tonicha - Menina do Alto da Serra 1972: Carlos Mendes - A Festa da Vida 1973: Fernando Tordo - Tourada 1974: Paulo de Carvalho - E Depois do Adeus 1975: Duarte Mendes - Madrugada 1976: Carlos do Carmo - Uma Flor de Verde Pinho** 1977: Os Amigos - Portugal no Coração 1978: Gemini - Dai-li-dou 1979: Manuela Bravo - Sobe Sobe Balão Sobe

*Portugal não participou no Festival Eurovisão da Canção de 1970 **seleção interna do representante - o festival serviu para selecionar a música que Carlos do Carmo iria interpretar

[altamontpt]

Júlio Pereira - Fernandinho vai ó vinho (1976)

A estreia a solo de Júlio Pereira é uma "opereta-rock" cheia de grandes convidados e de um humor e uma ternura irresistíveis.

A estreia a solo de Júlio Pereira é uma “opereta-rock” cheia de grandes convidados e de um humor e uma ternura irresistíveis. Quando pensamos em Júlio Pereira vem-nos imediatamente à cabeça a imagem do músico de cabelo longo com o seu inevitável cavaquinho entre as mãos, navegando as águas da música popular portuguesa. Mas, no início da sua carreira, o rock era um dos seus grandes amores. De…

[crvgedits]

vasco icons

like se salvar

[edsonjnovaes]

Maestro Diogo Pacheco dirigindo uma orquestra

Maestro Diogo Pacheco dirigindo uma orquestra – Facebook. 07 FEV 2024 Chevrolet Opala 1987: Comercial Antigo Completo 90″ (Maestro | Anos 80) – AutoBR – Acervo Audiovisual Automotivo Brasileiro. 2018 1 de mar Comercial do Opala 1987 com o maestro Diogo Pacheco O Chevrolet Opala foi um modelo de automóvel fabricado pela General Motors do Brasil. Foi o primeiro automóvel de passeio fabricado pela…

[new-dinosaurs]

Navaornis hestiae Chiappe et al., 2024 (new genus and species)

(Type skull of Navaornis hestiae [scale bar = 10 mm], from Chiappe et al., 2024)

Meaning of name: Navaornis = [discoverer of the original fossil and the site where it was found] William Nava's bird [in Greek]; hestiae = for Hestia [Greek goddess of architecture]

Age: Late Cretaceous (Santonian–Campanian)

Where found: Adamantina Formation, São Paulo, Brazil

How much is known: A nearly complete skull. Some associated bones from the rest of the skeleton likely belong to the same individual. A partial braincase from the same locality probably comes from a different individual of the same species.

Notes: Navaornis was an enantiornithean, a group of bird-like, usually flight-capable dinosaurs from the Cretaceous. It is one of a handful of enantiornitheans known to have been toothless, giving its skull a superficial resemblance to those of modern birds. However, Navaornis was unlike modern birds (and more like typical non-bird dinosaurs) in the proportions of the bones making up its upper jaw and the lack of a mobile joint in its palate.

The skull of Navaornis is so well preserved that the overall shape and structure of its brain can be reconstructed, a first for an enantiornithean. Similar to birds today, its brain was arched so that its brainstem pointed somewhat downward instead of backward, and the main part of the brain devoted to cognition was relatively enlarged (though not to the same extent as in modern birds). On the other hand, its cerebellum (part of the brain involved in coordinating movement) was relatively small. An especially unusual feature of Navaornis was its greatly enlarged inner ear, the functional significance of which is unknown.

Reference: L.M. Chiappe, G. Navalón, A.G. Martinelli, I. de Souza Carvalho, R.M. Santucci, Y.-H. Wu, and D.J. Field. 2024. Cretaceous bird from Brazil informs the evolution of the avian skull and brain. Nature 635: 376–381. doi: 10.1038/s41586-024-08114-4

[girlactionfigure]

THURSDAY HERO: Aracy Carvalho

Aracy Carvalho was a Brazilian clerk working at her country’s consulate in Hamburg Germany who used her position to save German Jews and find homes for them in Brazil.

Born in 1908 to a German mother and a Brazilian father in Rio Negro, Brazil, Aracy was a bright child with a facility with languages. Besides Portuguese, her native language, she spoke German, English and French. As a young adult, Aracy moved to Sao Paulo. She married a German man with whom she had one child before separating in 1935.

With her multicultural upbringing, sharp mind and friendly personality, Aracy decided to go into the diplomatic field. She was appointed to the Brazilian Consulate in Hamburg, Germany in 1936 and served as Chief of the Passport Section. Two years after her arrival in Germany, a horrific pogrom against Jews took place throughout Germany. November 9, 1938 became known as Kristallnacht, the “night of broken glass.” Much more than glass was broken by the Nazi party’s paramilitary unit, helped by fervent members of the Hitler Youth as well as German civilians. Jewish homes, businesses, schools and hospitals were destroyed with sledgehammers, and 267 synagogues were burned to the ground. Many Jews were brutally murdered, 7000 Jewish businesses were destroyed. 30,000 Jewish men were arrested and sent to concentration camps. Jews across the country were thrown into despair and fear, and over the next few days 638 (or more) Jews committed suicide.

During Kristallnacht, Aracy sheltered a Jewish couple, Margarethe Bertel-Levy and her husband, in her small apartment. She then made arrangements for them to leave Germany safely, with most of their possessions. As the situation for Jews in Germany worsened, Aracy hid several other Jews. One of them, Gunther Heilborn, would later name his Brazilian-born daughter Aracy in honor of the brave young woman who saved his life. 

Working in the diplomatic field, Aracy’s job required her to be apolitical. Brazil and Germany had a strong trade relationship, swapping Brazilian cotton for German industrial goods, and the president of Brazil, Getulio Dornelles Vargas, a ruthless dictator, did not want his diplomatic corps to do anything to alienate Hitler. Aracy was instructed to “unofficially” prevent desperate Jewish refugees from going to Brazil by giving them visas marked with J, and then denying them approval to travel. This was not acceptable to Aracy, whose moral compass overrode the instructions of her superiors. She quietly refrained from marking Jewish passports with the tell-tale J, instead issuing as many valid visas as she could to Jewish applicants, even those she knew were using forged passports. She also helped them financially so that they had enough money to start a new life once they reached Brazil. Aracy became known among Jews as the “Angel of Hamburg.”

Around this time, João Guimarães Rosa was appointed Brazil’s deputy consul in Hamburg. On his first day on the job he met Aracy and was soon entranced by the beautiful passport official, especially since there was something mysterious about her. Aracy seemed to be hiding something about herself, and as João got to know her and earned her trust, he discovered what it was. Initially he was shocked, but soon came to agree that she was doing the right thing, and developed enormous admiration for the brave young woman, who could get fired or worse for disobeying orders. They were married in 1940.

The political winds often shifted quickly during World War II, and by 1942 Brazil was no longer on the side of Germany and instead joined the Allied Forces. Aracy and João were recalled back to Brazil, where João became one of Brazil’s most celebrated authors who was nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1967. 

In 1982, Aracy Carvalho de Guimarães Rosa was honored as Righteous Among the Nations by Israeli Holocaust Memorial Yad Vashem. She lived quietly in Brazil until her death in 2011 at the advanced age of 102. “Passport to Freedom,” a miniseries about Aracy’s wartime heroism, aired on Brazilian television in 2021. 

For breaking the rules to save innocent lives, we honor Aracy Carvalho de Guimarães Rosa as this week’s Thursday Hero.

[momo-de-avis]

Sugestões de livros

Fica aqui para que parem de me mandar ask. Notem que isto não é só coisas que eu li, são também sugestões de colegas e amigos que confio muito.

Reis e rainhas:

Toda a coleção da Temas e Debates de biografias de reis e rainhas

Rainhas Medievais de Portugal de Ana Rodrigues de Oliveira

As Avis, Joana Bouza Serrano

História de Portugal Geral

História de Portugal tanto do Rui Ramos como do José Mattoso, sendo o segundo da Círculo de Leitores portanto só se consulta em biblioteca e sao livros de cabeceira

Grandes Mistérios da História de Portugal, Fátima Mariano

História, Arte e Literatura, Diogo Ramada Curto

História Global de Portugal (autores Vários)

Portugal na Idade Média, Sérgio Luís de Carvalho

História da Vida Privada em Portugal, José Mattoso (vários volumes por épocas, só estou familiarizada com a Idade Medieval)

Breve História de Portugal / Brevíssima História de Portugal (são 2 livros distintos) A. H. de Oliveira Marques

Al-Andalus

Fath Al-Andalus, Marcos Santos

Lisboa Árabe, Sérgio Luís de Carvalho

Portugal na Espanha Árabe, António Borges Coelho

Cristãos Contra Muçulmanos na Idade Média Peninsular, Carlos de Ayala e Isabel Cristina F. Fernandes (Coord.)

História Judaica e Inquisição

História dos Judeus Portugueses, Carsten L. Wilke

Judeus Portugueses, Esther Mucznik

A Perseguição Aos Judeus e Muçulmanos de Portugal - D. Manuel e o Fim da Tolerância Religiosa (1496-1497), François Soyer

Lisboa Judaica, Sérgio Luís de Carvalho

Inquisição e Cristãos Novos, António José Saraiva

História da Inquisição Portuguesa, Giuseppe Marcocci e José Pedro Paiva

História de Lisboa

Rainha dos Mares (Queen of the Sea em inglês), Barry Hatton

Lisboa Desconhecida e Insólita, Anísio Franco

História Gastronómica de Lisboa, Manuel Paquete

Lisboa em 10 Histórias, Joke Langens

Lisboa Revolucionária, Fernando Rosas

Lisboa no Liberalismo, Victor de Sá

Lisboa Manuelina, Helder Carita

Caminhar por Lisboa, Anísio Franco

Segredos de Lisboa, Inês Ribeiro e Raquel Plicarpo

Diário de um Viajante a Lisboa, Henry Fielding

Era das Luzes

O Marquês de Pombal e a sua Época, J. Lúcio de Azevedo

Século XIX

1808, Laurentino Gomes

A Republicanização da Monarquia, Maria de Fátima Bonifácio

Século XX

O Século XX Português (Vários autores)

Portugal Entre a Paz e a Guerra, 1939 - 1945, Fernando Rosas

Curiosidades, assuntos específicos e tópicos nicho:

Portugal Insólito, Joaquim Fernandes

História Global da Alimentação (Vários autores)

Quinas e Castelos, Miguel Metelo de Seixas

They Went to Portugal, Rose Macaulay

Heroinas Portuguesas, Fina d'Armada

O Pequeno Livro do Grande Terramoto, Rui Tavares

(Des)colonização e raça:

Roteiro Histórico de uma Lisboa Africana, Isabel Castro Henriques

Portugal e o Século XX: Estado-Império e a Descolonização, Fernando Tavares Pimenta

Lisboa Africana, Sérgio Luís de Carvalho

Um Mar da Cor na Terra, Miguel Vale de Almeida

Ecos Coloniais: Histórias, Patrimónios e Memórias, de Ana Guardião, Miguel Bandeira Jerónimo e Paulo Peixoto

Caderno de Memórias Coloniais, Isabel Figueiredo

Escravidão, Laurentino Gomes

"Modo Português de Estar no Mundo": O luso-tropicalismo e a ideologia colonial portuguesa (1933-1961), Cláudia Castelo

Outras cidades:

Porto Insólito e Desconhecido, Germano da Silva

Cascais, Raquel Henriques da Silva

Qualquer livro da Scala sobre qualquer palácio público, inclusive os da Parques Sintra (Mosteiro dos Jerónimos, Palácio da Pena, Palácio da Vila, Mosteiro de Alcobaça que eu tenha)

vou atualizando à medida que vou descobrindo livros por aí

[ringstarrr]

If I Needed Someone

summary: Elena is a Brazilian journalist on vacation in London, and happens to find someone very special during this trip that changes her life.

pairing: george harrison x !female oc

warnings: mentions of disaperances, military dictatorship, angst

author's note: i know i said i'd posting this in january, but life is a bitch. like i said before in that post, here is the long fic i'm currently working on. it starts in 1967. it takes a long time to write this one so hold on. hope you like it :)

1.

It was her first time aboard; she went to London to pursue the dream of knowing the ever so beautiful place with her own darkish eyes. Most of the things Elena liked came from England, so it was no surprise where the Brazilian girl would choose to go once her now ex-boyfriend came up with the idea of visiting another country. They have long broken up, finding the man with one of other female reporters in a bar around the corner of the magazine they worked at in São Paulo. At least the girl was only a freelancer, never seeing the woman again, and Elena thought she wouldn’t recognize her at first glance — and the element she once called a boyfriend took more work out of town since then, only coming to the office once to tell Elena he had canceled his ticket.

"I won’t disturb your trip, even if it was meant to be ours. Sorry I ruined everything". How sweet, she smiled.

Elena worked at Realidade, living the raw and chaotic lifestyle of the city’s downtown area. The office was in between two avenues, João Adolfo and Álvaro de Carvalho, a few meters from the famous Nove de Julho avenue. Realidade occupied the twelfth floor of the triangle-shaped building, and the woman loved it. The magazine was ahead of its time in its themes and how to board those, having a monthly publishing gave the reporters just enough time to research and interview how many people needed to write an interesting article for the next issue. It was definitely a fun job.

Elena covered politics, though; it wasn’t nice, but it wasn't as bad as she and everyone in her life circle thought it would be. The country has been under a military dictatorship for three years, when she was just a student coming from the countryside. Elena was 22 and she remembers everything, either she likes it or not. If not for her, probably her family wouldn’t have ever known how things were going on in the big major cities, believing the propaganda around a communist threat and moral panic. She prevented them from knowing full details, not only because they were gruesome, disheartening and shocking, but Elena feared someone might be listening, moreover, who.

The girl knew a bunch of people that went missing in the blink of an eye. It was her last year in college, and all she could remember was her colleagues and friends just stopping from coming to class altogether, raising an unspoken concern around campus, to then the course’s administration being obliged to take a leave of absence for almost a third of the enrolled class. It was extremely hard, much for not knowing when, how, where or who to talk about the subject without tracing unwanted attention. The smallest of the missteps was enough to end it all. The safest place was her bathroom, crying under the shower in complete distress, and sometimes some places in her dorm, where she’d meet others involved with unions and UNE — the Students National Union — in the early hours of the morning every once in a while. The dark haired one also left that part out when talking to her parents once she went to visit them later that same year. Elena not only had friends in the movement, she was in it as well.

It was a tough experience in every single way she could think of. She came to understand that some of her friends were exiled willingly, some not, and a few were declared dead. And there were the ones which nobody had a clue about. Every hint the movement got led nowhere or, more often than not, to traps by the military. They started ignoring those clues after a while to avoid any more casualties, and it simply made her numb for a long time. One of the students missing was a close friend, Lídia, and what might be happening to the young lady took nights away from Elena.

Lídia was a tall blonde with a beauty mark on the center of her forehead, always carrying a big brown leather purse that used to get twisted in her long hair. She was friends with Elena since their first day at college, clicking like they were childhood sweethearts. Elena knew her family, and sometimes the image of her parents would pop into her nightmares. Lídia went missing right before graduation. The last time they spoke was that same day, and she was heading to Elena’s dorm to help her pack to move to a new and small apartment near Lídia’s house, around Mooca.

When the blond didn’t show, Elena called her friend’s family. In the new space, sitting on one of the boxes lying in the living room, she curled the yellow phone’s cord anxiously. It was late in the evening and Lídia’s parents were elders, but that didn’t matter at that moment.

"Sorry to call this late, Ms", she announced at the sound of Lídia’s mother's voice. "Have you heard from Lídia? She was supposed to come here earlier…"

Elena trailed off, hearing the complete silence fill the call. The duration of it and strength of the woman slowly taking in a breath stayed with her. And the trembling of her voice.

"She never arrived at the dorm, Elena?" The young one bit her cheek, holding back the anxiety growing stronger. She managed to whisper a “no”. "That can’t be true…"

Not anymore.

Elena cried herself to sleep that night and a bunch of others after. She still visits their house, only not as much. Both parts were scared of raising unrequited stares by being seen together. Yet, they lived close. Elena often saw the elderly woman on the street, clearly taken over by the situation. She was thinner, her skin deep and her eyes small. Having to deal with this in silence drove Elena mad, reconsidering the movement and her involvement with it. Is this really worth it? All this suffering? It was something she thought a lot about. But since she didn’t get involved much already, just going to meetings and delivering letters from exiled revolutionaires to their families and friends, Elena decided to stay.

She panicked when one of her friends tried to teach her how to shoot a gun in early 1966. It was dangerous to do that just by themselves, without the movement’s help, especially in a residential building on Vila Mariana, an area the military used to patrol quite often due to the movie theaters with mostly foreign movies — they thought the students were dumb enough to schedule a meeting during or after a Godard film was shown. The experience brought Elena a new feeling of dread and anxiety she longed to never feel again. The friend, which was actually a casual fling restricted to secluded places — it was a girl — left and never came back, but only after calling Elena a coward. It was the first week at her new apartment, quite a homecoming. She had left Mooca after just five months, the possibility of meeting Lídia’s parents anytime she left the house cursed her — Elena knew they didn’t blame her for the missing of their daughter, but she couldn’t help but think how the military caught the girl when she was going to her place.

The fling was a girl named Julia. They met through a movement’s meeting. She didn’t live in town, staying for a mission she refused to tell Elena anything about. But the girl had a gun in her backpack and that raised unanswered questions. It was the first time Elena got involved with a girl and it was actually nice for some time. Julia would come by her apartment unannounced quite often. Initially just to chat and give back one of Elena’s records she borrowed. On one of those occasions, the long and curly haired brunette made a comment on Maria Bethania’s appearance after returning the singer’s debut LP, exclaiming how attractive she thought the baiana was. This led to a subtle talk on women’s traits, what each of them liked most — Julia was just naming Elena’s physical traits and it didn’t go unnoticed. They ended up in bed, showering each other in caresses and kisses. It happened a few times, enough for Elena to consider asking the girl what she wanted to label them, even if just for themselves.

This whole conversation was supposed to take place that night, but Julia was more interested in trying to convince Elena to learn how to shoot the gun. What started as a joke soon turned into a fight. It all happened fast. She arrived, kissed Elena and dropped the backpack by the front door, and began bickering about how much of a pussy Elena was for not knowing how to protect herself. The girl tried to brush it off, but then realized Julia wasn’t kidding, she actually meant it. Julia tried to force Elena into holding the weapon and that was it for her — she shoved Julia away harshly, eyes wide.

"Oh, so it’s gonna be like this?" Julia ironized and pushed Elena even harder, the woman landing on the ground. Julia snickered and grabbed her things, going to the door. "You are and will always be a fucking coward." With that, she slammed the door and the two never met again.

Either way, covering politics as a journalist was difficult, and it could go way worse depending on how attentive and paranoid you were. She was on vacation, so nothing to worry about, at least not for now.

Elena was having the best time and, for her, the trip could last forever. She was hanging around town like a complete tourist and outsider — which she was — and simultaneously feeling what belonging must be like. Being from a small city, one of those where everyone knows each other and people talk about others constantly because, well, there isn’t much else to do there, she’d never experienced that. Not in her hometown nor on the college campus. Nevertheless, strangely, she’d swear it was as if the place was made for her, laughing a bit at her selfishness.

She did not feel the need to look up a map after leaving the hotel, however like said before, Elena was at home. She had landed in Europe a few days before, looking around like a lunatic and making friends with an old lady on the same floor of the place she was staying. They went around the town together, the madam making sure to show the young girl some of her favorite spots across town. It was fun, the elderly woman reminded Elena of her grandmother, Italian and not so subtle about expressing herself. She liked the company and was actually considering Isabella a friend and knew it was mutual, exchanging penpal information so they’d send letters and postcards back and forth.

Isabella was in the same situation as Elena, kind of. Her husband died before their trip, but she didn’t think it was a drag or anything like it. The woman was very much at peace with that. She didn’t give Elena a whole lot of detail, but the girl wasn’t stupid. He died of natural causes in his sleep. That Isabella didn’t enjoy. She told her the late man was a farabutto of the highest caliber for most of their marriage and wasn’t much around. Elena knew a lot of Italian men and how bad they could be, it wasn’t hard to put two and two together, and considering the amount of anger Isabella had when speaking of him, she didn’t question the happiness the madam felt being free again.

Walking and driving around Europe with an outspoken Italian lady was not in her plans, being shy herself. The job made her go out of her shell whenever needed, so it was quite easy to learn how to deal with being constantly spoken to at high volumes and enemy-of-timidness-and-shame-ways most days. Their generational difference didn’t interfere — Isabella had other interests for when Elena was in a mood for something “hip”. Nevertheless, their strange and unique ways brought them together in the first place.

Elena was not able to leave the building as fast as she meant, the short old woman bombarded her with a bunch of questions drawn from her pure hectic mind.

"How do I look, mia cara?" Elena chuckled at how they developed so fast a type of grandmother and granddaughter dynamic.

"Good as always, love."

"Do I look pretty?" She pressed, doing circles in the new acquisition Isabella bought earlier in the morning, a flowery spring dress.

"Belissima", the girl replied with a smile.

"Do you think he will like it?" Today she had a date, and Elena couldn’t be happier for her. Isabella met a North American man around her age at the hotel bar in town for a business trip, yet, he asked her for a date. It was harmless fun.

"If he doesn’t, he is blind or stupid. Look at you!" She exclaimed.

Elena left without completely letting her know how stunning and gorgeous she was. Time was ticking and at that point, he would be waiting for Isabella in a matter of minutes. Wandering around the city, Elena tried to take in all of the beauty it exalted; it was almost overwhelming. Standing in the middle of a bridge and not looking to an exact point in the horizon, she thought it would be a great idea to visit a few music shops and restaurants, just so she could experience entering a coffee shop in London by herself. It all felt like a dream.

The wind blew her skirt and her Jane Birkin-esque fringe was everywhere, including her sunglasses, but the whole thing seemed so genuine and new that she did not bother with the hair strands blocking her vision or pinching her face. Not at all. She was in what must have been Camden Town, judging by the lots of art and music shops — and after checking the map the first time that day, she confirmed it was indeed. One shop caught her attention, simple yet so charming looking, with boxes filled with records around the forefront, which was painted in bright colors in the window frame, mainly orange and yellow. Peeking inside, Elena noticed more records and a few instruments. It was intriguing, and there she entered.

The shop was truly beautiful in the most calming and comforting way. The items were mostly older records and music instruments, those being new and very well-crafted — they must make them here, she thought, noticing after a while it was a music shop for collectors and nerds, the brands of the instruments familiar but they were all personalized for each customer. With the sunglasses atop her head, she felt like walking into a psychedelic dream, the works in the pieces filled with color and abstract drawings. After looking around the LPs and grabbing a copy of The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan, released four years back, she decided to face the instruments more attentively.

Elena was studying a new Bösendorfer piano, completely white except for the keys and the piece protecting them, she had never seen one in São Paulo when she heard the sound of the front door opening and closing right after, but did not mind. It was just her and another stranger in the store. From the corner of her eye, Elena saw him and she was amazed. The boy was tall, with strong facial features, a mustache and long curly hair that made her turn her head towards him. He was handsome, yet she saw him briefly. He was in the other section of the shop, looking around the guitars, probably for someone to help him with something. She tried not to pay attention and went back to the piano, sitting by the stool and putting Bob Dylan’s record over the top.

Surprisingly, the boy seemed to leave her thoughts quite fast, even though Elena’s stomach was turning into knots and butterflies. She began to play Quem Te Viu, Quem Te Vê, released earlier that year in Nara Leão’s new album, filled with her partnership with Chico Buarque, quietly singing to herself. Elena didn’t think much of it, it was pretty common for people to play at music shops, and the piano didn’t have a tag signaling it was already bought.

"Hoje o samba saiu, procurando você", her voice was small and sweet, and she was surprised to actually remember the words. "Quem te viu, quem te vê, quem não a conhece não pode mais ver pra crer, quem jamais a esquece não pode reconhecer…" For a moment it was as if she was still at home, playing her small black Yamaha during the weekends, learning new songs from the albums she brought home. "Hoje eu vou sambar na pista, você vai de galeria. Quero que você me assista na mais fina companhia. Se você sentir saudades, por favor, não dê na vista. Bate palma com vontade, faz de conta que é turista."

Elena happily finished the song considering she hasn’t heard the Vento de Maio in a good while. The girl was in her own little world when she began playing the firsts keys for I’ll Be Your Mirror — a tune by The Velvet Underground she discovered by accident after buying the LP just because of the cover — when someone cleared their throat behind her. Already feeling her face warm in embarrassment, Elena turned around.

"Hi", it was the man from before. Now she could really take in his looks. Strong nose, round doe eyes, big lips, bony big hands nervously playing with one another. He was wearing a flowy light-shaded pink shirt with a beige vest and Bordeaux colored pants. "I’m sorry; do you know where the owner is?" She was taken aback by him, more focused on how his messy hair made him look oh-so adorable and how thick his accent was than she’d like to admit.

"Oh, hi." Elena offered a small smile, the blush more intense. There could be seen a rosy shade creeping on the man’s face. "Actually no, now that you mentioned. I entered here and didn't see anyone."

"Weird, normally he’s here at this hour", he said looking around, and then placing eyes on the record on top of the piano. "D’ya like Dylan? He's nice", he smiled and all his teeth were shown and Elena swore she had never seen such a beautiful man in her lifetime. "What were you playing just now?" He asked, looking directly into her eyes. Moreover, she noted they were very dark and shiny. "Is that Spanish?" She could tell it was true curiosity, but Elena laughed at the question, clearly throwing him off as he blushed harder.

"It’s Portuguese. Brazilian Portuguese, more specifically", she smiled at him, cheeks flushing and looking down, trying to show the laugh wasn’t to make fun of him, just being nervous. "Completely normal to mistake one for the other. It’s Nara Leão", she noticed the name was completely new to him and smiled once again, amused. "Does Chico Buarque ring a bell?" He seemed more comfortable, yet the blush was evident. He nodded and came to sit by her right side in the stool, arms brushing together in result. Elena could feel the fabric of the shirt he was wearing in her upper arm. She was wearing a conventional top with most of her back exposed, the fabric holding itself by the knot at the back of her neck.

"De Holanda?" He spoke with that accent, her smile larger as she giggled. "Guess I wrecked it, right?" He laughed a bit, his tongue coming in between his long teeth.

"It doesn’t sound that bad, don’t worry", she laughed once more. "Either way, did you enjoy the song?" She was trying to make a conversation and maybe, just maybe, flirt a little. It was just a start.

"I did, doll. I did", he giggled, still not sure what to do with his hands but coming across as very much confident. Elena couldn’t take her eyes off of him. "Gonna look her up afterwards, be sure of that". That smile was gonna be the death of her. "If you don’t mind me asking, what are you doing here? People don’t usually play here." Elena’s eyes popped out.

"Don’t say that", she tried to sound nonchalant, but she was completely embarrassed. "It isn’t normal to play around in music shops here?" She couldn’t contain her disbelief, and he whole-heartly laughed at her, the sound soft at the ears.

"It is, just not here", he began playing a few notes on the piano, holding a grin. "It’s the kind of shop where the instruments are reserved and quite expensive. People are a bit over the top about it". At the explanation, she noticeably gulped. "Doll, don’t panic. There’s no one here", after swiftly putting a hand on her back and taking it off, he was back to playing with the keys.

"Do you come here very often?" Elena was analyzing his features, looking for a reaction.

"I come here when I don’t want to worry about stupid shite, like work and all of that jazz…" he stopped a second to look at the wristwatch on his left pulse, noticing it was almost two in the afternoon and giggling. "So yeah, I guess I come here quite a lot, even on a random Tuesday." He said laughing at himself. Tilting his head towards the girl, he watched her look at the piano so peacefully, in an almost mesmerizing manner. "What about you?" The boy asked, looking straight into her face.

"It's great to find somewhere to chill in the middle of the madness out there…" she thought loudly, cursing herself mentally for letting her strange ways come up. "Oh, it is my first time here. I thought it was obvious", she grinned, blushing a little.

"Y’have never been here before?" He was holding a smirk.

"Yeah. To be honest with you, it is my first time in England". His eyes jumped a little.

"How cool! Where are you from?" When he heard the answer, he was even more interested in the girl. "That explains the song. It must be amazing there. Well, if people are like you."

"Hum, uh, so, what were you looking for in there?" Blushing, she asked, pointing to the opposite side of the shop. "And thank you", almost above a whisper, but he heard it anyway, smiling at how nervous she looked.

"I was looking for an order I made, but I’m thankful I did not find it", he could not hold the smile much longer, so he just asked. "What is your name?"

"Elena", the girl said, her voice low. They could not stop looking at each other.

"Nice to meet you, Elena". He extended his hand out for a shake, and she took it gracefully. Her hand felt so soft against his. "I’m George", his hand was rough but comforting, leading Elena to think it was a sign.

"Since you don’t know round the city may I show it to you?" George asked as he got up, his eyebrows going up with his smile and arms open, causing Elena to laugh.

"Sure thing. I’m just going to pay for this and we can go". She checked the price in the Bob Dylan album and put a note in the cash register explaining what she had bought and what happened so the owner would not miss the item. George quietly smiled at the gesture, thinking how it wasn’t the norm to do that. And it wasn’t, but Elena was paranoid, for valid reasons, that any ambiguous action of hers could be used as reason to cause her suffering.

[germanpostwarmodern]

In our latitudes the art of Brazil still leads a somewhat shadowy existence, especially with regard to the decades before the Second World War. With its current exhibition „Brasil! Brasil! The Birth of Modernism“ the Zentrum Paul Klee up until January 5, 2025 attempts to broaden our view on Brazilian modern art and takes a closer look at the origins of its modern art and the artists involved in it. In order to allow for an overview of the different artistic currents as well as the individual developments of the artists, the curators decided to limit the exhibition to 10 artists that represent different strands of Brazilian modern art: Tarsila do Amaral (1886-1973), Anita Malfatti (1889-1964), Lasar Segall (1889-1957), Alfredo Volpi (1896-1988), Vicente do Rego Monteiro (1899-1970), Flávio de Carvalho (1899-1973), Candido Portinari (1903-1962), Djanira da Motta e Silva (1914-1979), Rubem Valentim (1922-1991) and Geraldo de Barros (1923-1998). Gaining independence in 1889 Brazil at the turn of the 20th century was a country on the move, looking to define its identity. Naturally, artists of all trades also sought to define a Brazilian art, stripped off the colonial past and representative of the now independent country, efforts that culminated in the „Semana de Arte Moderna“ in São Paulo in 1922: financed by coffee tycoon Paulo Prado the art week sought to shift the focus from Rio de Janeiro to the economic center of Brazil but also presented a wide array of modern art, architecture and music. Subsequently, Brazilian artists, either financed by their families or on stipends, went to Europe: Anita Malfatti e.g. spent time in Berlin while Tarsila do Amaral, Candido Portinari, Vicente do Rego Monteiro or Geraldo de Barros stayed in Paris. What they brought home were the avant-garde ideas of the expressionists, futurists and cubists which they combined with Brazilian topics and traditions, indigenous and Afro-Brazilian imagery which became an idealized subject in the avant-garde arts.

The reflection of these plural influences can also be traced in the comprehensive catalogue, published by Snoeck, accompanying the exhibition: it contains substantial dossiers of each artist as well as contextualizing essays that paint a complete picture of the Brazilian avant-garde, including literature, architecture and design but also address critical topics like the appropriation of Afra-Indigenous imagery and the central role women played in Brazilian modern art. A very informative, beautifully illustrated catalogue!

[saopauloantiga]

Viatura do DSV estacionada na avenida Dr. Vieira de Carvalho, região central de São Paulo, em 1983

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

Landless Rural Workers' Movement camp suffers attack in Brazil

Two dead and six injured in Friday's shooting attack (10); President Lula wants to visit the site

On Friday night (10), families from the Landless Rural Workers' Movement (MST) at the Olga Benário Settlement in São Paulo's countryside were attacked, resulting in two deaths and six injuries, including children and the elderly. Settlement residents reported that around 11 p.m., criminals invaded the area with cars and motorcycles, shooting indiscriminately.  

The attack resulted in the deaths of Gleison Barbosa de Carvalho, 28, and Valdir do Nascimento, 52. The other victims are out of life danger.  

President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva called MST national leader Gilmar Mauro on Saturday (11) to express his condolences for the murdered workers and the five injured.  

Mauro told Brasil de Fato that the president expressed his solidarity with the MST and the victims' families. He made the Ministry of Justice and Public Security, the Ministries of Human Rights and Citizenship, Agrarian Development, and the Federal Police available to provide necessary assistance to the settlement and thoroughly investigate the case. “Lula stated that once authorized to fly [due to his health], he wants to visit the region,” said the MST leader.  

Continue reading.

[kaitcreates]

Shadowhunter families and their place of living.

England

Bridgstock(1903, London)

Baybrook(1903, London)

Branwell(1878, London)

Featherstone(1903, London)

Greenmantle(1903, London)

Hardcastle(1903, London)

Highsmith(1903, 2012, London)

Gladstone(1903, London)

Mayhew(1903, London)

Mayburn(1878, London)

Pangborn(1878, London)

Pouncey(1903, London)

Ravenscar(1878, London)

Townsend(1903, London)

Wentworth(1903, London)

Hayward(1903, York)

Starkweather(1878, York)

Buenos Aires, Argentina

Acosta(2012)

Breakspear(2012)

Gonzales(2012)

Romero(2012)

New York, USA

Graymark(1920)

Safar(2010)

Whitelaw(1984)

Mexico City, Mexico

Delgado(2012)

Mendoza(2012)

Rocio(2012)

Rosales(2012)

Velez(2012)

Brazil

Carvalho(2012, São Paulo)

Pedroso(2012, Rio de Janeiro)

Spain

Casales(2012, Madrid)

Castel(2012, Barcelona)

Villalobos(2012, Madrid)

India

Chaudhury(2007, Mumbai)

Joshi(2012, Mumbai)

China

Ke(2012, Shanghai)

Lieu(2010, Hangzhou)

Wang(2012, Shanghai)

Germany

Grunwald(1721)

Kriegsmesser(2007, Berlin)

Morgenstern(1878, *May be form other german speaking country, also mentioned to be from Sweeden)

Vogelspritz(2010, Hamburg)

Von Mainz(1832, Prusia)

Rome, Italy

Di Aneglo(1903)

Maletesta(2007)

France

Beausejours(2012,*May be from another french speaking country)

Montclaire(1989, Paris)

Pontmercy(2007, Marseilles)

Verlac(2007, Paris)

Portugal

Monteverde(2007, Lisbon)

Rosewain(2007, Cumbria)

Australia

Makepeace(2002, Melbourne)

Sedgewick(2007)

Other

Jahanshah(1903, Persia)

Keo(2012, Cambodia)

Larkspear(2012, Atlanta, Georgia, USA)

Lindquist(2012, Umea, Sweden)

Lovelace(2008, Glascorw, Scotland. 1878, London, England)

Maduabuchi(2012, Lagos, Nigeria)

Kaidou(1878, Tokyo, Japan)

Ashdown(2012, Los Angeles, California, USA)

Theorised

Nightshade(Los Angeles, Califiornia, USA, *Vampire with same last name lives there)

Solcedo(Spanish country, *Taken on by Marisol, who's previous last names were both spanish)

Malhotra(India, *name originates from India)

Tokugawa, Satõ(Japan, *names originates from Japan)

[livrosencaracolados]

"Um Ano Inesquecível"

Sɪɴᴏᴘsᴇ Oғɪᴄɪᴀʟ: A cada estação do ano corresponde uma história típica do quotidiano de qualquer adolescente: as vivências, as emoções, os problemas, as dúvidas, os amores, as desilusões… momentos inesquecíveis e surpreendentes que deixam suaves memórias para mais tarde recordar. Este é um livro sobre esses instantes: uma fascinante viagem de inverno e uma paixão inesperada (Paula Pimenta), um outono decisivo (Babi Dewet), uma paixão que floresce com a primavera (Bruna Vieira) e um amor ardente de verão (Thalita Rebouças). Quatro histórias escritas a quatro mãos sobre jovens que experimentam vivências e sentimentos tão intensos que dificilmente irão esquecer.

Aᴜᴛᴏʀᴀs: Paula Pimenta, Babi Dewet, Bruna Vieira e Thalita Rebouças.

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ALERTA SPOILERS!

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O Mᴇᴜ Rᴇsᴜᴍᴏ: Em "Enquanto a neve cair", uma Mabel apaixonada descobre que o alvo dos seus afetos acabou de ficar solteiro e, esperançosa no que pode vir a acontecer entre os dois, engendra um plano para partilharem uma tenda na dormida que vão fazer em casa dos amigos. Ora, quando os pais decidem surpreendê-la com uma viagem à neve de última hora, todas as suas intenções para a última semana de férias caem por terra. Para a Mabel, o cenário idílico das montanhas brancas do Vale Nevado mais parece um pesadelo, algo que ela não deixa de dizer aos pais, ganhando assim o "prémio" de não puder tocar no telemóvel a viagem inteira. Quando o seu avião finalmente aterra no Chile, uma Mabel muito contrariada apercebe-se de que, afinal, não sabe nada sobre esqui...e que o Igor não é quem ela pensava que era. Felizmente para ela, ambas a sua falta de equilíbrio e o seu coração partido têm uma solução, e é entre as pistas, num lindo instrutor de esqui, que ela a vai encontrar.

Os pais da Ana Júlia têm sonhos grandes para ela, expectativas claras para o seu futuro, e sendo que ela própria não se consegue lembrar de outro rumo a seguir, resigna-se a ser advogada. Com a ideia de dar à filha a vantagem da experiência, o pai da Ana consegue que um amigo advogado a aceite como estagiária, e é desta forma que a rapariga acaba por passar todas as tardes do seu último ano de secundário numa firma. A vida da Ana Júlia torna-se assim banal e repetitiva, pelo menos até, no seu caminho rotineiro para a firma, se passar a cruzar constantemente com um músico de rua carismático que lhe quer atrair a atenção. Ela não liga nada à música, o facto de o seu nome vir de uma canção de Los Hermanos só piora esse sentimento, mas quando João Paulo, chamado assim em honra dos Beatles, se infiltra no seu quotidiano e lhe dá um gosto da beleza das melodias, a Ana abre mão do cinismo e dos podcasts a favor da alegria e do ritmo. Viciada nas novas sensações que o rapaz a fez sentir, a Ana Júlia faz-lhe um pedido, consciente de que o seu tempo juntos está a chegar ao fim: para a ajudar a formar memórias que valham a pena recordar quando ela se entregar ao Direito. Em "O som dos sentimentos", uma rapariga presa à seriedade e à lógica encontra uma futura estrela musical cheia de vida e de amor para dar, e experiencia a magia do outono como nunca antes.

"A matemática das flores" acompanha Jasmine, uma miúda fora da caixa com sonhos reprimidos por pais protetores, que se arrisca a não seguir para a universidade por falhar a matemática. Ela odeia a disciplina com tudo em si, e o professor ser quem é só piora as coisas, mas a ideia de ficar para trás enquanto todos os seus amigos avançam na vida é muito mais assustadora do que um par de números. Mais por iniciativa da mãe do que por sua, a Jasmine aceita ter aulas de apoio com o horrível professor Carvalho todas as tardes depois da escola, para recuperar no que está para trás, mas quando o rapaz enigmático que viu no metro inesperadamente se torna no seu tutor, as equações deixam de lhe provocar tantas dores de cabeça. Para não reprovar, a rapariga tem que ter uma nota quase perfeita no exame, como compensação, mas os perfumes da primavera não lhe vão facilitar a vida, e o brotar de uma paixão pelo David pode custar-lhe o futuro.

O primeiro amor da Cacá trocou-a por um cavalo, a Inha foi humilhada e traída pelo namorado e a Tati...bem, a Tati nasceu com o nome mais estranho do mundo, isso já é castigo suficiente. Para ultrapassar as suas dores, o trio inseparável decide aproveitar bem o verão, bronzear até não dar mais e, por uma vez, afastar-se do drama (na verdade, só a Inha é que quer isso, a Cacá tem todos os príncipes europeus solteiros na mira e a Tati arrancaria o próprio pé por um minuto de fama). Os dias pacatos ao sol das amigas são interrompidos quando sai a notícia de que o Wylsinho, irmão da Tati e futebolista medíocre, está a namorar com a funkeira mais badalada do momento, Keillinha Kero-Kero. Daí em diante as raparigas tornam-se famosas por associação, subcelebridades, e na altura do Carnaval, juntam-se à Kero-Kero no camarote privado com a vista mais fantástica dos desfiles. É entre canções, bailados e festa que a Cacá encontra um verdadeiro príncipe, herdeiro do grande império da paçoca, que a Tati finalmente sente o sabor da fama e que a Inha dá de caras com um galã de olhos cor de quivi, que a faz esquecer o nome do terrível ex. Em "Amor de Carnaval", as melhores amigas vão passar por tantas alegrias como tristezas, mas fá-lo-ão juntas.

Cʀɪᴛᴇ́ʀɪᴏs ᴅᴇ Cʟᴀssɪғɪᴄᴀᴄ̧ᴀ̃ᴏ:

Qᴜᴀʟɪᴅᴀᴅᴇ ᴅᴀ Pʀᴏsᴀ: Bastante básica, honestamente. Não há grande coisa a dizer da escrita das partes do inverno e do outono, a do verão é bastante engraçada mas repete-se demasiado e a da primavera...tirou-me um pouco do sério. Ei de me expandir mais à frente mas, resumidamente, na primavera é-nos dito tudo, timtim por timtim, ao ponto de a autora nunca se preocupar em desenvolver os seus personagens porque pode simplesmente dizer que o fez, em vez de o mostrar. Para além disso, o diálogo não é nada natural.

Hɪsᴛᴏ́ʀɪᴀ: A nível de enredo, tenho de destacar algumas coisas, como o facto de a conclusão de "O som dos sentimentos" estar mais preocupada em satisfazer os desejos dos leitores do que em fazer sentido. O conto foi ótimo, encantador e o meu favorito no livro, mas teria sido muito mais interessante se se alicerçado mais na ideia de as pessoas entrarem na nossa vida por "uma razão, uma estação ou uma vida inteira", e tivesse aplicado a segunda instância ao João Paulo, em vez de nos atirar com um final feliz convencional que tira poder à narrativa. Como já mencionei, "A matemática das flores" é um trabalho preguiçoso, estando cheio de drama pouco credível, uma incapacidade de puxar a história para a frente de maneira tangível e não permitindo retirar praticamente nada da sua leitura, nem um momento agradável. Os maiores problemas da Jasmine são inteiramente provocados por ela, aliás, o conflito principal era completamente previsível e evitável se ela e o David tivessem parado para pensar, mas preferem não o fazer e depois agir como se o mundo fosse acabar amanhã (quase dá vontade de concordar com a bully). É tudo genuinamente mal pensado, e isso está evidente. Já a nível do "Amor de Carnaval", o enredo é um desperdício de potencial. Ele começa extremamente divertido, de partir a rir, por parecer uma sátira do formato geral das comédias românticas, e para aí até meio do capítulo, isso é muito bem conseguido. Infelizmente, no momento em que o Guima decide dar uma de Ross Geller, o efeito satírico vai pelo cano abaixo e a história torna-se numa comédia romântica a sério, algo visto pela forma como a narradora se irrita com a Inha por esta não se querer atirar para os braços de um rapaz questionável. Não digo nada sobre "Enquanto a neve cair" porque a Paula Pimenta, apesar dos seus defeitos, soube dar ao seu capítulo pernas para andar.

Pᴇʀsᴏɴᴀɢᴇɴs: Tanto a Mabel como a Ana Júlia são protagonistas bastantes sólidas. Os seus defeitos estão à flor da pele e é claro desde o início o que é que está a impedir o crescimento de cada uma delas. Tendo em consideração o facto de as suas respetivas estações não serem muito longas (em páginas), as autoras fizeram um ótimo trabalho no desenvolvimento das suas heroínas. Paula Pimenta usa uma experiência de quase morte como catalisadora da evolução da Mabel, dando à rapariga a hipótese de provar que a sua atitude arrogante é apenas um escudo e que, na verdade, ela é apenas como qualquer outra miúda de 14 anos: faz-se de crescida para esconder o facto de ser influenciável e insegura. É impossível não ter compaixão e ela floresce em termos de confiança e bondade. A Ana Júlia, por outro lado, é pessimista e vive com uma nuvem negra em cima da sua cabeça, não entendendo a leveza das pessoas da sua idade e usando, por isso, o julgamento para se defender. Ela sabe que tem uma inteligência superior mas sente-se perdida, então faz tudo o que os pais mandam para não ter de lidar com a incerteza que a atormenta. É a influência de um certo músico, que aparece na sua vida tão subitamente como um meteoro, que lhe abre o olhar para o valor das pequenas coisas e a faz querer viver a sério, o que também a leva a apreciar mais as pessoas à sua volta. No final da sua parte, ela é uma pessoa diferente, mais decidida e com rumo, e é um prazer estar lá para ver. Agora...a Jasmine dá-me cabo do juízo. Já falei um pouco sobre ela mas é o epítome do clichê de uma miúda de 17 anos: é imatura, rude, coloca todos os que conhece em caixinhas (imaginem não se puder atirar um adjetivo genérico para a cara de alguém que só se viu uma vez, eu não sei se consigo), cria filmes com tudo, inventa que os pais não lhe dão liberdade que chegue quando nem sequer é responsável...podia continuar mas acho que me dei a entender. Dá a sensação de que a escritora queria criar alguém com que o leitor se pudesse identificar, mas as tentativas são tão forçadas que fazem o oposto. Uma das coisas que mais me irrita é a questão de ela não ter ideia do que vai seguir na universidade, um dos seus problemas principais, ser resolvida com um estalar de dedos, do nada, quando a autora se lembra de nos dizer que, afinal, a Jasmine sempre soube o que queria e até já andou a fazer por isso, mas que, aparentemente, decidiu mentir ao leitor logo nas primeiras páginas sobre isso. Não tem nexo nenhum. Ela não amadurece realmente, todas as suas supostas consequências acabam por se revelar prémios e os outros personagens só existem para a fazer parecer melhor pessoa, alvo de pena ou para realizar os seus desejos. É desconcertante a habilidade da autora de criar uma peste com tão pouco tempo de antena. Finalmente, o trio maravilha do verão é um máximo e dá vontade de abraçar, isto é, até duas das amigas se juntarem à narradora e pressionarem a Inha ao limite para ela perdoar um idiota devido a uma tecnicalidade, porque ela nunca encontrará alguém como ele outra vez (onde é que já ouvi esta? ah sim, em todas as comédias românticas onde há uma relação tóxica). A Flávia é a única que mostra algum amor próprio e pensamento coerente, e dá uma pena terrível quando ela volta ao 0 devido à pressão exterior. Não a culpo, culpo todos à sua volta, são terríveis.

Rᴏᴍᴀɴᴄᴇ: A este ponto já não estou a dizer nada de novo, os casais das estações frias são adoráveis (especialmente a Ana e o João, ele tem a personalidade de um cachorrinho fofinho e não aceito críticas), se ignorarmos o aparente vício das autoras brasileiras em criar pares com idades em que dois ou três anos de diferença tornam a leitura desconfortável. Quanto aos meses mais quentes...o David é um idiota quase tão grande como a Jasmine (ainda bem que duas pessoas com complexos de vítima se encontraram, podem fugir do resultado das decisões que tomaram conscientemente juntos) e é bom que me tirem o Guima da frente, e rápido, já não posso com o senhor "Oh mas como é que ele não tem nenhum defeito? Espera...ele quase destruiu a vida da protagonista e traiu a antiga namorada, ups!". Exigo justiça para a Inha!

Iᴍᴇʀsᴀ̃ᴏ: Procrastinei imenso acabar esta obra, não é o tipo de livro que prenda o leitor.

Iᴍᴘᴀᴄᴛᴏ: Tudo o que este livro tinha de fazer era oferecer quatro histórias de amor reconfortantes e suaves que deixassem o leitor a suspirar e melhorassem o seu dia, não é pedir muito. Memórias disto não quero, o livro é para vender.

Cʟᴀssɪғɪᴄᴀᴄ̧ᴀ̃ᴏ Fɪɴᴀʟ: ⭐⭐+ ½

Iᴅᴀᴅᴇ Aᴄᴏɴsᴇʟʜᴀᴅᴀ: Na verdade, como direi a seguir, não aconselho a leitura, mas se tiverem de ler (não têm, amigos, não têm), suponho que não haverá problema a partir dos 13 anos, apesar de romance não ser uma prioridade nessa idade e de este livro ter alguns maus exemplos do que é uma relação.

Cᴏɴᴄʟᴜsᴀ̃ᴏ/Oᴘɪɴɪᴀ̃ᴏ Fɪɴᴀʟ: Eu realmente apreciei uma boa parte da obra, o problema foi o facto de os capítulos bons estarem todos no início, ou seja, os fatores que me tinham deixado entusiasmada foram-se esvaindo da minha memória à medida que o clima ia (literalmente) aquecendo. Temo que o que é bom aqui não seja fabuloso ao ponto de justificar aguentar-se o resto, há por aí contos românticos que valem muito mais a compra. NÃO RECOMENDO.

Pᴀʀᴀ ᴏʙᴛᴇʀ: Um Ano Inesquecível, Thalita Rebouças - Livro - Bertrand

Assɪɴᴀᴅᴏ: Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ 𝐿𝓊𝓏 Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

[clovisfo]

Minha homenagem a Antônio Augusto Amaral de Carvalho (Tuta, 1931-2004), falecido recentemente em São Paulo-Brasil. Tuta era filho do empresário e advogado Paulo Machado de Carvalho, fundador da TV Record, e que dá nome ao Estádio do Pacaembu em SP. Nos anos 1960, criou os festivais de música na TV Record e os antológicos musicais que deram origem aos movimentos (entre outros) da Tropicália e Jovem Guarda. Criou a Rádio Panamericana, depois Jovem Pan (rádio, TV, mídias diversas). Foi pioneiro nas transmissões esportivas ao vivo a partir de estádios de futebol fora do eixo Rio-SP, e em transmissões via internet. Desde criança sou ouvinte da Rádio JP, e não perco os jornais e debates da TV Jovem Pan. Lamento a censura que o grupo passa no atual governo federal, mas não a mal que dure para sempre. Antônio Augusto Amaral de Carvalho foi o maior comunicador de mídias no Brasil junto a Francisco de Assis Chateaubriand Bandeira de Mello (1892-1968).

[edsonjnovaes]

Quem não sabe ler não rouba livros? 1.2

Paulo Carvalho Ministries – LinkedIn Palavras Perdidas: O outro lado do p(h)oder – A história da política brasileira pela ótica das prostitutas, [Resenha] Capitães da Areia – Jorge Amado (AUDIOLIVRO e FILME), A árvore que dava dinheiro – AUDIOBOOK (AUDIOLIVRO), BRANCA ALVES DE LIMA, Garis montam biblioteca com livros que iriam para o lixo Apoie e compre o artesanato feito pelas mãos das…