Tag: Creative
Pixelated Witch's Hut
PermalinkI decided to publish this simple house I made yesterday. Certainly has a lot of problems, but I’m proud of it.
Azulejo #3
PermalinkAzulejo #1
PermalinkAzulejo #2
PermalinkBroccoli
PermalinkMagical Tree
PermalinkSunflower
PermalinkWatermelon
PermalinkFirst Attempt at Pixel Art
PermalinkRecently I’ve been wanting to try out more things in my life. Perhaps not recently, I always have this urge to try out this “new” things that I haven’t done before and that they seem to be… I don’t know… interesting to me.
Verdades Incógnitas
PermalinkEstou a dormir. Ponto. Eu sei que estou a dormir. Sim, eu sei que mais tarde vou ter que me levantar. Não. Não és tu que dizes que eu devo ser. Não és tu que mandas nas minhas ações. Tu não és eu. Sim. Sou eu que mando em mim. Sou eu que ordeno e comando as minhas ações. Não tenho a certeza. Talvez… Tudo é incerto. Será que não sou eu quem manda nas minhas ações? Talvez sejas tu. Não sei. Com tantas incertezas que existem, como saberei quem manda em mim? Simplesmente não saberei. Ninguém sabe muitas das verdades escondidas, verdades secretas e incógnitas nunca antes pensadas e descobertas.
Intermittent Threads
PermalinkI was there. I turn my head to the left and I see a bullet coming in my direction. The clock stops. I stop. I see myself doing nothing. I see my whole life running throughout my brain. I realize that I haven’t done what I should have done. My whole life was a wire, an intermittent wire which is going to eventually break up. I see my children, I see all of the people I love. The time starts counting. The bullet reaches my heart and the wire breaks up. My soul stays a little bit more connected to my body, but it’s just for a few seconds. There isn’t one wire now. There are two: the one we left in the Earth and the one which handles our memories.
Uncertain State
PermalinkDeath. It’s the most heard word in the last days. Crime. And they say it was orders from their God. Who’s the God? Just someone telling them to kill, to suffocate the people until they die. Why are You doing this? Why is this God telling them to kill this people? Innocents. They didn’t do anything. They were people. Just like you, just like me. They were in the wrong place. At the wrong time. Why there? Why them? Was it the fate? Why? Just asking, I don’t know the answers. Should we know them? No one knows. We’re living and dying at the same time. They know they would die. But not this way, not this moment. They were screaming inside. Inside their minds. I wish it hadn’t happened. I’m crying. Why? Why if it has nothing to do with me. They’re people. It could be with me, it could be with you, it could be with the people you love. The world is unfair. Were just like atoms, living in an uncertain state.
Stop Complaining. Do!
PermalinkEveryday I hear people complaining here and there. They complain about almost everything: from the pencil which isn’t on its place to the government’s rules. I think is doesn’t occurs only here, of course. Maybe it’s a problem of adults (some of them, no offense). I see them complaining every single second. If you’re not this type of person, I believe you should have seen some of them.
Imperfections Make Us Perfect
PermalinkSometimes, I look through a window. My bedroom window. It faces the road. I see cars. There are thousand of them. All different: in shape, in colour, in size. But that’s only the outside. Their inside is all made of the same essence.