#plaquet
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daincrediblegg · 1 month ago
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one of these days I will fully articulate an essay on the costume design in the terror (for crozier specifically because I have so many brainworms about it) but it is not this day
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Plaquetes Artesanais
Conheça a nova Coleção Comboio... a primeira leva de plaquetes artesanais da Scenarium, totalmente colecionáveis... com tiragem limitada e um pacote exclusivo para você adquirir na pré-venda...
Olá, A Scenarium desde a sua concepção — em meados de 2013 — tem uma vocação: o experimental. Gostamos de testar papéis, tipos de fitas, quantidade de furos, dobras, rasgos e formatos vários… Foi assim que chegamos ao livro artesanal que oferecemos aos autores e leitores. Não sem antes cometer inúmeros erros, tropeços… Admito que foi a melhor parte. Eu me diverti com todos os processos. Neste…
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marianacorreiasantos · 1 year ago
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Brazil Railway Co. e outros poemas
Meu novo projeto de poesia, a plaquete Brazil Railway Co. e outros poemas, publicada em novembro de 2023, já está à venda no site da Editora Primata. Em dez poemas, escrevi versos às voltas com minha cidade de origem, Guarujá/SP, memórias de infância, amor, desejo, uso e exploração, além dos sempre presentes raça, gênero e classe. Entre 2021 e 2022, enquanto trabalhava na produção dos títulos…
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melanieph321 · 5 months ago
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Kenan Yildiz x Reader - Thick Part 3/8
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Kenan and Reader share the same high school friend group. As graduation is near, Reader sets out to pass her drivers license test but ultimately struggles to. Thankfully Readers friends agree to help her with driving lessons and take turns doing so. It is during one of Rader's lessons that it becomes clear that Kenan likes her. A chock to Reader, who has a crush on someone else in their friend group.
Enjoy!
"He called you what?"
"Fat. Or Not skinny, to be exact."
"Stronza." (Asshole).
You enjoyed driving with Rebecca. She wasn't as instructive or patient as Maria, and it was nearly impossible to communicate over the loud music playing in her car. But after your experience driving with Kenan, you could withstand a couple of false notes sung by her. 
"Do you want us to talk to him, maybe ask Gio to give him a slap upside the head?" She was also very sympathetic to the incident involving Kenan, naturally taking your side.
"Tempting." You chuckled. "But no, I'd rather let it go and ignore him for the rest of my life."
"That will be a hard thing to do."
"Trust me, I've managed to block out a couple of fat-shamers in my life, Kenan will be no different."
"Yes, but what about our road trip to Bari? I imagine it'll be difficult ignoring someone for ten hours straight while confined into a cramped car."
"Right." 
Just the thought of the road trip with your friends triggered an unpleasant feeling in your gut. It had more to do with the fact that you still didn't have a driver's license, and judging by the way things were going, you wouldn't possess one any time soon.
"How about we try the roundabout again? It should be more crowded at this hour."
"Yay."
Rebecca took you back to the roundabout that you and Kenan had tackled the week before. But unlike Kenan, she wasn't one to talk you through things, assuming that the actions needed were as obvious to you as they were to her. It resulted in you having some trouble finding the right gear for the approach into the right file, and unlike Kenan, Rebecca's hands weren't on the wheel, ready to spot you in case you'd need the assistance.
"Check your mirrors Y/N!" She shouted in panic.
The car swirled in the lane on your attempt to get it out of the roundabout. It swirled before coming to an abrupt stop. 
"My car!" Rebecca cried. 
Smoke rose from the hood of it. You had bumped it straight into the sidewalk. The car had to be towed and taken to the nearest mechanic shop right away.
"I promise to pay for all the damages." You assured.
"Of course you will. And I want compensation for the trauma that was inflicted on me. You're not a bad driver Y/N, you're a basket case."
"Ladies, ladies, please." Gio entered the small garage. He was wearing stained overalls, a plaquet with the name Joey on it. Joey, or Josef, was Gio's dad, owner of the shop. "There's nothing that yours truly can't fix. So please, no catfighting in my garage, as tempting as that would be to watch."
Rebecca rolled her eyes. "Just fix my car Gio, or else we won't have a ride to Bari this summer."
"Judging by the way Y/N is driving we might not even make it to Bari with her behind the wheel."
"Hey?" You hissed.
"Kidding, just kidding." 
Gio approached the vehicle, taking a good look at it. It was clear that he was better with his hands than his brain. And he didn't seem to mind following in his father's footsteps, taking over the shop and running it one day. "Yeah, this is gonna take some time fix it and it's gonna cost you." He nodded. "It's gonna cost you plenty."
"Well, what are you waiting for, get started on it."
"Sorry Beck's, but I'm closing the shop at six."
"Six, why so early?"
"Didn't you hear, Luca and his band have a gig in town. All of us are invited, no?"
"Right, I totally forgot about that. Are you going Y/N, I'd rather just go home."
"Erm....I think I'm gonna go." You blushed.
"Alright, then you can ride with me." Gio said. "I'm picking up Kenan once my shift is done. The guy is probably still asleep as we speak."
"Kenan's coming?" You asked.
"Yeah, why?" Gio turned to Rebecca who made a grimace similar to yours. 
"You know what, perhaps I should go." She said, "The more the merrier, no?"
"Right?"
"I'll call Maria and tell her to meet us there."
********************************************
You have seen many bands play live before. It always fascinated you how brave and care free the artists seemed on stage, going off on their instruments. Luca was no different, letting down his hair while rocking out on stage. It wasn't often that he let the world see what hid beneath the strings of his man-bun, — oh but when he did.
"Thank you everybody, I hope you've had a goodnight!"
"Go Luca!" 
The crowd, including yourself, shouted his name at the top of your lungs. You weren't the only girl who had eyes for the band's lead guitarist, however, you were one of the few people who knew him personally.
"Great set man. You were awesome." Gio said, as your friends gathered backstage at the end of the night. The five of you had danced the night away like maniacs, influenced by an unhealthy amount of cheap alcohol. 
"Thanks alot for coming guys, it means a lot."
"The night isn't over man, we're having drinks back at my place, aren't you coming." Said Gio.
"Sorry guys, gotta help the band pack up. But I'll see you guys at school on Monday. Y/N?" He said, stunning you with a smile.
"Y...yes?"
"I'll pick you up in the morning. You can drive my dad's Cadillac to school."
"It's a date." You grinned. It was really nice of Luca to want to stay and help his band. "He's so kind." You blurred out, during an intoxicated rant at Gio's house. Only you, Kenan, Gio and Maria made it back. Rebecca had her dad pick her up at the bar.
"So if you had to spend the night with someone in our friend group, it would be Luca." Gio nodded.
"Yes, but don't tell him I said that." You blushed. It was a messy game of truth or dare. The four of you were too drunk to perform any proper dares, which resulted in the majority of you choosing truth.
"Kenan, truth or dare?" You asked. It was your turn and you only asked him since it became obvious that you were ignoring him.
"Dare." He said.
"Okay, I dare you to make out with Maria for one minute."
Kenan grinned, but did not hesitate to scoot closer to Maria who sat next to him on the sofa. The two of them shared seductive glances before leaning in and engaging in the sloppiest make out session you've ever seen.
"My turn." Kenan wiped his mouth with a swipe of his tongue. "Gio, truth or dare?"
"Truth."
"Which girl in our friend group would you rather spend a night with?"
"Maria. My turn. Kenan, same question, which girl in our friend group would you rather spend a night with?"
"You guys are so annoying." Maria sighed, although you couldn't help but to notice the soft shade of pink that had blossomed on her cheeks. It might have been the aftermath of her make out session with Kenan, however, you noticed how she and Gio would throw glances at each other when they thought that no one was looking.
"Y/N."
"Huh?" You turned your head, noticing how all eyes were on you now, how Gio and Maria were holding back their giggles. "What's so funny?" They refused to answer you, drunk fucks. However, that's when you felt a hand on your thigh, with Kenan leaning in to whisper in your ear. "They're made for each other, don't you think? Almost like true love."
"What do you know about true love?" You shrugged his hand away.
Kenan's expression faltered. "You're still angry with me."
"Hah!" You laughed, but did not intend to sound as cruel as you did. "Try humiliated."
"Y/N, what happened during our…"
"Save it Kenan, I'm over it."
"You don't seem over it."
You turned to him, surprised by the way his eyes glowed beneath the dimmed lights of Gio's living room. "If there's anything I can do or say to make you forgive me...."
"You can't and there isn't."
His shoulders withered. "I never meant to hurt your feelings. I just....I get so tired after training. Sometimes I just can't help but run my mouth because I am so exhausted."
If this was Kenan's attempt to make you feel sorry for him you weren't buying it. Although it did strike your heart earlier, when Gio had gone to pick Kenan up at his house, revealing that he was missing a lot of days at school due to his commitments to Juventus. It was clear that Kenan lived a life different from all of yours. But surely he will go on to do great things in the future.
"Y/N?"
"Huh?" You had tuned out of the conversation for a second. But apparently a second was enough for Gio and Maria to have snuck upstairs, leaving you and Kenan behind. He stared at you with big eyes, the alcohol on his breath strong but sweet. "Can I kiss you?"
"What?" You snorted, however, Kenan had already closed his eyes, leaning into you, his lips pressing against the corner of your mouth.
You flinched. And as your hand went to push his weight off of you, the kiss deepend, Kenan's tongue seeking entrance to your mouth. It was granted as you gasped for air, his hand snaking behind your neck, railing you back in to kiss him again. It was unexpected, how good it felt. How a drunk kiss could be laced with so much passion, persuading you to make a series of bad decisions.
"Let's go upstairs, I brought condoms." Kenan traced his lips at the edge of your jaw, nipping at the skin. 
"Okay." You whispered, however, your need for him became urgent, your legs wrapping around his hips, pulling him down to lay on top of you. Kenan's mouth moving down your neck tickled like feathers. His hands found their way underneath your shirt, stopping to cup the swell of your bra. But in a moment of indecision, like a child in the buffet line, his hand slipped down your tummy, to your thighs.
"What?" You giggled, seeing as he stopped to stare at you, eyes foggy from the alcohol.
"I don't want you to regret this."
"What is there to regret?"
"I'm serious Y/N, I want you to want this. I want you to want…me."
Your eyes widened. "Kenan." Your brain was clouded from the alcohol but not smashed enough for you not to recognize the change in his voice. Your hands went to this face. "I want this." You nodded. "I want you."
It was all the reassurance he seemed to need. Kenan leaned into kiss you and the tenderness of the kiss flared a swarm of butterflies to invade your stomach. He squeezed your thighs not minding the size of them. He was almost obsessed, eager to strip you of your skinny jeans. He did so promptly and you helped by raising your hips. However, you were not as comfortable during the next phase. The liquid courage in your veins ceased to flow once the realization hit that you were about to see Kenan naked for the first time and he you.
"You, okay?" He asked, noticing how your hands weren't running down his body anymore.
"Kenan I…?" 
A fear sprung his eyes, A fear that you may have come to the conclusion that this was a mistake.
"I'm not as confident about my body as people think." You said.
"Your body?" He frowned, and shamelessly stared at what lay beneath him. 
"Yes, my body." You sighed. "You said so yourself, I'm not skinny and guys like you like skinny girls without belly pouches and what not. "
"Guys' like me?" Kenan repeated, and if he was planning on playing dumb, you were grabbing your things and heading out the door. "Y/N, I don't know who's made up such lies about me, or if it's just you who likes to have a guy repeat how fucking sexy you are?"
"Pardon?" It felt like being hit by a brick. A brick that snapped you out of any cloudiness you previously felt.
Kenan smiled and broadly so. "I meant it the first time I said it, I like you Y/N, all of you."
It was as if a vail unraveled before you, revealing the beauty that was Kenan. His smile, his dimples, the cocky way that he arched his splintered brow, it was all offered to you, all you had to do was accept. A few minutes later you were going at it again, tongue deep, your bodies grinding against each other as if you were trying to start a fire. It was the wildest thing that you had ever done, to ride someone on a living room couch, not holding back on the moans, a pure reflection on how good it felt to have Kenan inside of you. He was merciless, shameless even. And after the first round he had you spread your legs while he went down on you for twenty minutes, refusing to let back to back oragsms stop him from making you squirm. You would certainly regret it in the morning and the near future, but for now you let yourself go under.
Part 1 Part 2
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penig · 1 year ago
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Behold the dress that kicked my ass.
After finally perfecting the empire waist dress I was of course sick of sewing it, so I went through the patterns inherited from a friend's mother (friend doesn't sew, mother was about my size and had a significant stash of projects she never got to start) and found a cute one that would do for my purposes. I should have dug out my muslin (I found muslin for $0.99/yard once 20 years or so ago and have been lauding my own wisdom in buying the bolt ever since) but instead I thoughtlessly pulled one of the fabrics from the inherited stash. Because I am smart enough to use stuff I have paid little to nothing for the first time I make a pattern.
I have never altered a dress with princess seams before.
There was absolutely no leftover fabric of that black; there wasn't even enough for the sleeves. Fortunately, I also overbuy solid colors in plain fabrics on sale and had quite a lot of a green that coincidentally match the palm trees. That button plaquet was not supposed to be a button plaquet, it was supposed to be facing, which I turned into a button plaquet when the front panels wouldn't meet across the portion of my anatomy that shakes when I laugh like a bowlful of jelly. I misjudged where and how much the flare needed to be changed to accommodate that and I couldn't think of a good way to make the scraps into a gusset to fix the problem. The button plaquet mostly solves that; but I didn't consider how much it would widen the neckline, and when my first try-on came I found myself with an off-the-shoulder dress and a really deep decolletage.
And that was when I entered one of my "what are shapes?" phases. I'm not good at rotating shapes in my head at the best of times; sometimes, I cease to be able to parse them at all. They become like numbers and make no sense. There's nothing I can do but tuck the problem into my backbrain and give it time. As usual, this method didn't fail me, and when I finally saw the leading edge of how to deal with the problem I started picking away at it one small task at a time.
This is still a shade too wide at the neckline (my hair's over my shoulders so the bra straps don't show) and there are seams that any seamstress as good as people think you need to be to make your own clothes would not tolerate for a second - but I happen to be a crappy seamstress who makes her own clothes anyway, and today I reached the point at which I could say: "That'll have to do; hem the thing."
I can't be said to have learned the pattern, either, due to the jiggerpokery with the facing/plaquet. Next time (which will not be tomorrow! Or even next month.) I will definitely call on my faithful cheap muslin. But it actually is kind of cute, and if I can learn to alter princess seams to my shape properly - well, that's a whole new world, isn't it?
Anyway, consider this encouragement to do any project you think you're not good enough to do, and to see it through. Whatever it is. If I can do it, you certainly can.
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rosyjuly · 11 months ago
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DON ANTOINE GRIEZMANN SCORING AGAINST REAL THE DAY HE RECEIVES THE PLAQUET FOR BECOMING OUR TOP SCORER
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naoedicoes · 1 year ago
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10 anos de NÃO
Grato a quem foi cúmplice de NÃO OBSTANTE, exposição/feira/encontro n'O Homem do Saco que assinalou os 10 anos da não edições e mostrou desenhos, risografias e cartazes a partir do trabalho de João Concha para a Colecção 32, na qual foram publicadas as primeiras plaquetes de poesia da editora.
Fica um agradecimento especial ao Homem do Saco por acolher a Não e todas as pessoas que por ali passaram nestes dias de Dezembro.
Venham mais 10!
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poesia · 1 year ago
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E-BOOK GRATUITO - Uma seleção de poemas sobre o LIVRO e a LEITURA
Esta coleção mambembe, “Separatas a Esmo”, é a desculpa que me dou quando não quero realizar uma antologia temática de maior fôlego, mas não posso deixar de cumprir meu solitário papel social de antologista, que é nutrir o leitor com leituras benfazejas (ou que ao menos eu goste de ler). Assim, bom é já avisar que há de certeza muitos outros poemas sobre o Livro e a Leitura que aqui poderiam figurar; estão por aí, perdidos/pulsantes no hiperuniverso da literatura. Mas temos aqui algo com que começar, algo com que alegrar-nos.
A confirmar o caráter de breve fôlego deste plaquete, preciso assinalar que a maior parte destes poemas foram retirados, sim, de antologia senão de facto, ao menos de direito e ISBN, a obra (que também organizamos) O Livro e o Prazer da Leitura em 600 Citações (Uiclap, 2023). A maior parte, mas não todos. Há poemas aqui que não entraram na referida seleta, e aquela é, afinal, focada no universo das frases. Aqui, embora em espaço exíguo, a poesia reina sozinha, esporte primevo que sempre lhe aprouve e bem vestiu.
No mais, aqui estão, graciosamente para você ler e compartilhar, poemas sobre Sua Majestade, o Livro.
Sammis Reachers
Para baixar seu exemplar em PDF pelo Google Drive, CLIQUE AQUI.
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furoremisterio · 2 years ago
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Tempo lembrado
Forjar a palavra e expandir seus limites. Participo com alguns poemas sobre tempo e memória da primeira plaquete da editora Forja. Mais informações, no perfil da editora. 📚 #Repost @forja_editoraforja_editora E temos novidades!.. Já está circulando por aí a primeira plaquete da Forja. Para inaugurar esse tipo de publicação por aqui, reunimos um grupo muito especial de poetas que contribuíram com…
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hamstress · 1 month ago
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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Red Blouse.
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christopheaudi · 2 months ago
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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: NWT IRON AND RESIN FREEDON RIDER SIERRA BEIGE PLAID LONG SLEEVE SHIRT MEN'S 3XL.
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selecoesliterarias · 5 months ago
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Plaquetes Baunilha (Conto, Crônica, Ensaio, Poesia, Gratuita) – 02.08.24
#SeleçõesLiterárias — Vai até 02.08.24 a seleção de textos para a chamada Plaquetes Baunilha, a ser publicada pela Editora Comala. Proposta: “A EDITORA COMALA, no intuito de incentivar a escrita literária, colaborar com a difusão da arte e cultura brasileiras, e proporcionar um espaço de visibilidade e valorização de vozes LGBTQIAPN+, torna público este EDITAL 002/2024, que visa a divulgar o…
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Um poema de António José Fernandes
Para esse domingo, o poema que inspirou a plaquete de junho...
Ainda não é tarde Alguém chama por nós no fim das lágrimasTrazendo nos braços o corpo do último prisioneiro Ainda não é tarde Paisagens sem espingardas voam na cauda das nebulosasNascem verdades nas angústias esfomeadas dos órfãos Ainda não é tarde A mão do sonho invencível afugenta a decadênciaO grande espectáculo sem pólvora cresce nos olhos dos homens Ainda não é tarde António José…
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shodges3835 · 7 months ago
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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Ralph Lauren boys Hawthorne jacket 10/12 navy blue red interior euc no hood.
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diarioelpepazo · 9 months ago
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León Magno Montiel @leonmagnom Los hombres de las ínsulas se levantan entre la sal, el sol, las arenas ardientes y el mar que reparte vida y muerte en un mismo compás. Para ellos el mar es un jardín sumergido, otras veces; un desierto verdoso. En ese entorno natural soberbio, los habitantes de las islas forman su carácter, en medio de esa biodiversidad llena de vida, de poesía, de peligros y asechanzas: se determina la índole de su sangre. Gustavo Pereira es un hombre de la isla, nació el 7 de marzo de 1940 en Paraguachoa, que significa "La isla de las perlas en voz guaquerí". En el sector Punta de Piedras exactamente. El primer hijo del matrimonio inusitado y novelesco que formaron Ofelia Salazar, bella margariteña, y el aventurero Benito Perera (sin la i, hasta ese momento. Luego adoptó el Pereira). Su padre quedó huérfano y lo protegió, lo levantó Monseñor Pellín, lo educó bajo su égida, su férrea tutela. Benito Perera en su adultez, recorrió las selvas venezolanas, fue un pionero de las redes ferroviarias en el país. Era de ascendencia italiana, conocía bien esa cultura. Ofelia era una mujer contemplativa, una buena lectora, una dama serena. La juventud de Gustavo estuvo siempre circunscrita al Oriente de Venezuela, entre Puerto La Cruz y los pueblos aledaños. Se formó en la Universidad Central de Venezuela en la carrera de Derecho en 1963, por esos años vivía entre oriente y la Caracas, la megalópolis cultural que lo sedujo; entonces comenzaba su militancia política con los movimientos de izquierda. En 1980 se marchó en París para realizar el Doctorado en Letras Hispánicas, trabajó sobre "Los Cronistas de las Indias", su lenguaje, durante dos intensos años permaneció en la cuidad luz. Su brillante tesis doctoral selló su maridaje con las culturas primigenias del continente americano. Él es un sabio de esa fuente: la cultura indoamericana. Pereira ha reflejado en su poesía la pasión india que lo envuelve, es un descubridor de los misterios de los pueblos originarios, desde México a la Patagonia sigue indagando sus riquezas artísticas, su mundo agreste y originario. Cuando tenía 12 años de edad, tuvo un tránsito relampagueante por la ciudad de Maracaibo, allí estudió en el año 1952, conoció la ciudad puerto, ensenada de poetas, la madre de la gaita, la urbe amante del lago. En 1953 regresó a su Puerto La Cruz, a los 16 años publicó su primer plaquete de poemas. Desde entonces no ha cesado de publicar, tiene una veintena de títulos de su autoría: poemarios, ensayos, antologías de su obra, artículos arbitrados, varios tomos han sido traducidos. En 1967 se casa con Maureen Pacheco y tienen tres hijos, que son fuentes de su creación literaria más personal. En 1992 Gustavo Pereira publicó su poema irónico y reivindicativo, "Sobre Salvajes" que tuvo una gran repercusión en el mundo literario e intelectual: "Los pemones de La Gran Sabana llaman al rocío chiriké yeetakuú, que significa saliva de las estrellas. A las lágrimas enú parupué, que quiere decir guarapo de los ojos. Y al corazón yemán enapue: semilla del vientre. Los waraos del Delta del Orinoco dicen mejokoji (el sol del pecho) para nombrar el alma.Y para decir olvidar dicen emonikitane, que quiere decir perdonar. Los muy tontos no saben lo que dicen; para decir tierra dicen madre para decir madre dicen ternura para decir ternura dicen entrega. Tiene tal confusión de sentimientos que con toda razón las buenas gentes que somos los llamamos salvajes." El poeta Gustavo Pereira Salazar es un hombre poseedor de una colosal cultura, un sabio del lenguaje, maestro de la historia y las tradiciones venezolanas. Eso propició que fuese elegido para redactar el preámbulo de la Constitución de la República Bolivariana de Venezuela en 1998, logrando un texto admirable. En ese momento fungía como parlamentario. Por esos días, él había definido la cultura como el eje de salvación de cualquier país, junto a la justicia y la libertad; son las tres banderas indivisibles que debemos llevar en ristre:
"Donde existe cultura no hay miseria, en un barrio o en una urbanización cuyos habitantes han tenido acceso a la cultura puede encontrarse pobreza, pero no miseria. Porque la cultura es una salida a la miseria. No hay un proceso de transformación política si no hay un proceso de transformación cultural." Como ser insular, individuo meditabundo de los misterios del mar, Gustavo plasma en su poesía la belleza y la fuerza de las mareas, el llanto de los naufragios, las arenas retorcidas por la resaca, la lenta agonía de las embarcaciones corroídas por el salitre. Así cantó en su poema "Pisada", de 1981: "La hallé esta mañana en la arena, ni la alta marea ni los vientos pudieron llevársela. Brilla como una moneda nueva en medio de la playa húmeda". Luego de leer el grueso de su obra y de conocer el universo pereriano, concluyo que este poeta margariteño es un bastión del amor a nuestro país, es una voz que le ha cantado a sus raíces y goza de absoluta vigencia. Logró una clara valoración del colectivo hispano, de sus connacionales, quienes lo escuchan o lo leen con pasión. Sus somaris son intuiciones poéticas de relampagueante belleza, los vemos en agendas, mensajes digitales, recitados en la radio, en epígrafes, son parte del quehacer venezolano. Los somaris son poemas breves que se inspiran en los haikus japoneses, en los epigramas griegos; pero son una creación de Gustavo Pereira, que seguirán apareciendo hasta en grafitis. Tiene la frescura, la espontaneidad y síntesis que este tiempo exige, acordes con la actual sociedad de la información: "Me sé perdido en ti Me se envuelto en tu madeja no puedo saber cómo zafarme de tu abrazo ¿Cómo diablo zafarme de tu abrazo? Esta desconocida sustancia de desdichas me lleva hasta tu vientre y desde allí puedo ver cómo la mañana penetra en ti. Tu risa es para mi la puerta abierta del tiempo que vendrá, y en tus abrazos soy muelle con barcos y sueños." Una faceta poco difundida en la vida del gran poeta Pereira es su vocación por el dibujo y la pintura, a ese quehacer de óleos y pinceles dedicó muchos días, muchas horas, y logró crear obras hermosas. Lo inspiró su admiración por los grandes pintores y su amor por el color: "Ando en pos de los azules y del rojo que es la pasión", afirmó. Es un devoto perdido de Marc Chagal, de Vicent Van Gogh y Max Ernest. Honores al poeta isleño, vivas para el escritor venezolano que celebró 80 años de edad entre cantos de coral y odas de la marejada. Hombre que cada día se hace más universal, más vital. El rapsoda oriental Gustavo Pereira: un hombre de mar, con su extraño corazón, como diría Stevenson. Para recibir en tu celular esta y otras informaciones, únete a nuestras redes sociales, síguenos en Instagram, Twitter y Facebook como @DiarioElPepazo El Pepazo
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expedicaocommusica · 1 year ago
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Coletivo Escreviventes na Flip 2023
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Coletivo Escreviventes na Flip 2023 Coletivo Escreviventes marca presença na Flip 2023 com mesa sobre mulheres, literatura e subversão. Todas as participantes do coletivo e presentes na Flip estarão na primeira edição do Sarau Escreviventes às 21h de sexta-feira (24/11), na Casa Ópera (Rua Marechal Santos Dias, 25).   Integrantes do coletivo Escreviventes em foto de 2022. Divulgação.   São Paulo, 22 de novembro de 2023 - Depois do sucesso da primeira participação em 2022, o Coletivo Escreviventes, que reúne escritoras de todas as idades, raças e regiões do país, marcará presença mais uma vez na Festa Literária Internacional de Paraty de 22 a 26 de novembro de 2023 com uma programação especial.  Além de ocupar um estande na praça aberta com livros das autoras à venda e organizar um sarau de mulheres escritoras, o Coletivo integra a programação independente da Flip com a mesa “De Pagu a Escreviventes: a literatura produzida por mulheres como instrumento de subversão” no sábado (25/11), às 17h, no Auditório do Areal. Partindo de Pagu, a autora homenageada da Flip, e passando por Conceição Evaristo, que cunhou o termo “escrevivência”, as representantes Carla Guerson, Cidinha Ribeiro, Michele Fernandes, Milena Maria e Sol de Paula pretendem compartilhar suas experiências e os caminhos tortuosos da escrita e da publicação de mulheres em meio à rotina e a sobrecarga imposta a elas. Assim como no ano passado, a mobilização das escritoras para fazer parte da maior festa literária do país ocorreu em tempo recorde. Em apenas dois dias, as participantes, lideradas pela fundadora Carla Guerson, se mobilizaram, organizaram uma rifa com livros das autoras como prêmio e arrecadaram o valor necessário para viabilizar a programação e o aluguel do estande.  “Já é a segunda vez que vamos à Flip como parceiros, acho que somos o único coletivo, atualmente, a ter esta parceria. E isso só é possível porque temos um grupo engajado e coeso, com mais de 600 escritoras participantes. Para a FLIP deste ano, estamos com uma comitiva de cerca de 70, o que representa pouco mais de 10% das mulheres do Coletivo. Mesmo sendo um percentual pequeno, para nós será um momento histórico, pois como somos de várias partes do país e funcionamos essencialmente online, não temos muitas oportunidades de encontros presenciais” (Carla Guerson). O Coletivo Escreviventes contará com um estande na Praça Aberta, no Areal do Pontal, em Paraty, onde estarão disponíveis livros, zines e plaquetes de parte das escritoras, que irão se revezar no espaço ao longo dos 5 dias de festa. Algumas autoras participam ainda de programações paralelas, em mesas, lançamentos de livros, oficinas e saraus, mas todas se encontrarão na primeira edição do Sarau Escreviventes às 21h de sexta-feira (24/11), na Casa Ópera (Rua Marechal Santos Dias, 25), apresentado pelas poetas Thaís Campolina e Renata Ettinger e com a organização da escritora Elaine Araújo.   Programação do Coletivo Escreviventes na Flip 2023 24/11, 21h – Sarau Escreviventes (Casa Ópera, Rua Marechal Santos Dias, 25) 25/11, 17h – Mesa “De Pagu a Escreviventes: a literatura produzida por mulheres como instrumento de subversão” (Auditório do Areal) De 22/11 a 26/11, das 10h às 22h – As participantes do Coletivo vendem e autografam seus livros no estande do Coletivo (Praça Aberta, Areal do Pontal) Para acompanhar outras programações de escritoras do coletivo na Flip, acompanhe @coletivoescreviventes no Instagram.  Escrevendo e circulando juntas: o Coletivo Escreviventes Depois da experiência de 2022, O Coletivo Escrevivente está ainda mais organizado. O objetivo é levar cada vez mais escritoras a ocupar espaços literários com suas vozes plurais. Em 2023, núcleos do coletivo espalhados pelo Brasil marcaram presença na Feira Motim, em Brasília e na Flima, na Serra da Mantiqueira. Para esses eventos, o coletivo se divide em grupos regionais e organiza também encontros casuais para compartilhar experiências e divulgar e prestigiar os eventos das colegas. As Escreviventes também organizaram coletâneas e antologias, como o livro Desobediências miúdas, publicado pela Primavera Editorial, e Fortaleza Escrita na Praça, oerganizado por integrantes do Ceará, e em 2024 pretendem lançar uma antologia de contos inspirados em Lygia Fagundes Telles. “Atualmente, além do grupo geral, temos sete grupos regionais que se reúnem eventualmente, e seis grupos de trabalho para as diferentes atividades do coletivo: clube de escrita, clube de leitura, antologias, eventos, divulgação de obras literárias e oficinas. A ideia do coletivo é abraçar toda e qualquer atividade voluntária que possa impulsionar a escrita e publicação de mulheres no Brasil. Queremos escrever e queremos ser lidas.” (Carla)     Sobre o Coletivo Escreviventes O Coletivo Escreviventes é um espaço para agregar escritoras e promover a escrita e a leitura de mulheres. Atualmente reúne 600 mulheres de todo o Brasil e de várias faixas etárias e momentos da carreira: de escritoras iniciantes que nunca publicaram a outras com vários livros publicados. O coletivo funciona virtualmente, por meio de encontros no Zoom, grupos de WhatsApp e de e-mail, e de forma cooperativa, com todas as atividades voluntárias e gratuitas. As atividades e alguns textos produzidos pelo Coletivo são divulgados no Instagram, no Medium e em revistas parceiras, como a Contos de Samsara. “Somos um coletivo feminista”, ressalta Carla Guerson. “O termo coletivo carrega uma conotação política, de luta. Estamos aqui para lutar pelo reconhecimento das mulheres no mercado editorial, para mostrar nossas vozes, para batalhar pelas nossas vidas, pela nossa existência. Estamos aqui ‘apesar de’.” Além de Carla Guerson, atuam como coordenadoras do Coletivo as escritoras: Michele Fernandes, Licia Mayra, Yara Fers, Elaine Araújo e Monique Bonomini. Atualmente, o Coletivo Escreviventes tem diversas frentes de atuação, como clube de leitura, desafios de escrita, saraus, parceria com revistas literárias, publicação de antologias (a primeira saiu em agosto de 2021 pela Amazon e a quarta, já está em organização) e toda e qualquer forma de impulsionar e divulgar obras escritas por mulheres. Também são realizadas oficinas e palestras gratuitas, ministradas por escritoras de dentro do Coletivo, com o objetivo de facilitar o compartilhamento de conhecimento entre as participantes. O Coletivo Escreviventes recebe novas integrantes a cada trimestre. “Estamos em constante mudança e crescimento e queremos agregar cada vez mais mulheres que escrevem,” completa Carla. Saiba mais no site do Coletivo Escreviventes.   Mais informações: https://medium.com/coletivo-escreviventes https://www.instagram.com/coletivoescreviventes/  Read the full article
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