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"A gente fica esperando que a alegria haverá de chegar depois da formatura, do casamento, do nascimento, da viagem, da promoção, da loteria, da eleição, da casa nova, da separação, da morte do marido, da morte da mulher, da aposentadoria... E ela não chega porque a alegria não mora no futuro, MAS SÓ NO AGORA."
[Rubem Alves in O melhor de Rubem Alves]
O Panamá é um país no istmo que liga a América Central à do Sul. O Canal do Panamá, uma reconhecida proeza de engenharia, corta o centro do país, ligando os oceanos Atlântico e Pacífico e criando uma importante rota de navegação. Na capital, a Cidade do Panamá, arranha-céus modernos, cassinos e casas noturnas contrastam com as construções coloniais do distrito de Casco Viejo e com a floresta tropical do Parque Natural Metropolitano.
Capital: Cidade do Panamá
Continente: América do Norte
Moedas: Dólar dos Estados Unidos, Balboa
Pontos de interesse: Canal do Panamá, Arquipélago de San Blas, MAIS
Língua oficial: Língua castelhana
Oficialmente: Republica do Panamá
O Deserto do Atacama ocupa uma grande área do norte do Chile e o principal ponto para ter como base para explorar suas belezas é San Pedro de Atacama. San Pedro, ou SPA, é um local bem pequeno e de estrutura limitada, que não possui aeroporto. O aeroporto mais próximo de San Pedro fica em Calama, uma cidade com estrutura melhor, a 100 km de distância.
"a função da arte não é agradar, o prazer é aqui um meio; não é neste caso um fim. A finalidade da arte é elevar"
[Fernando Pessoa]
Pascal Schumacher (Vibraphone, Piano, Synthesizer, Electronics)
Maxime Delpierre (Guitar, Synthesizer, Electronics)
Jeff Herr (Drums, glockenspiel)
Martha Khadem-Missagh, Émilie Bongiraud (Violin)
Jean-François Mein (Viola)
Raju Vidali (Cello)
Collectif Scale (Scenography)
Joachim Olaya (Sound design)
"Imaginaires" at the abbey of Mont Saint-Michel. Night stroll scenography by Kolektik Alambik.
www.tripadvisor.com/LocationPhotoDirectLink-g196646-i4009...
Piedras Rojas
Situado a 164 km de San Pedro de Atacama, a quase 4.000 metros de altitude, emoldurando as Lagunas Altiplânicas Miscanti e Miniques, encontra-se o salar de Talar também chamado de Piedras Rojas, devido a uma série de grandes blocos de pedra dessa cor que contrasta com a beleza surreal das águas.
Ilha do Bananal, a maior ilha fluvial do mundo.
Bananal Island, the bigest river island in the world
Ilha do Bananal, a maior ilha fluvial do mundo.
Bananal Island, the bigest river island in the world
yeah, I'm pretty sure that you can still remember the project I'v been working(pegs and elfs and what not. Well I have remade the stage design. You can propably still see some of pegs at there. Since I'll have also accordeon on the stage, I wanted to explore that theme more and this is where we are now. Idea is that you can quite quickly make big or small forms and transform that from one theme to another. And you can also empty that space quickly.
One morning two Lumens of Light fell up the mountain and went home, tree clouds absorbed every red brick stack until a pinkness reflected the Auteurs tired eyestrain , she had to do it, hindsight would be there cooling beside a volcano at some point in the future as it did in the past. She was driven ,Those lumens had rolled up over the steep scree looking as lightweight as dry tumbleweed, no one would have heard them not that scree and tumble weed could ever coexist in the same terrain, tumbleweed here was just a generic loose bunch of dry bracken held together with lengths of sticky bud tendrils just like a Lumen, mostly full of radiant ice cool light, and as they rolled, spinning without shade they emphasised the ley and the lay of the land and the strata of rocks by creeping stain-like across the textured dotty bubbles of gravel and minuscule constellations enshrouded by quartz crystals and pattern after pattern, in fact a pulsing rhythm of patternity, contrasting a monosyllabic wall of barriers begging to be brushed as gesso grosso is stroked, brushed and pounced onto canvas, currents, smoothed to carry the lumens to breathe the flow of flax as a thermal of breezes holding shape-shifting shoals of mirror fish swimming for all their worth towards the waning moon. Old low light rolling down a hedge path edged by coppiced elms and banks of alium, alexander fresh green hunger blank walls of white engrained emulsions, chalk words of the white wide ceiling skies bursting with flocks and pollen of wind blown seeds, they share the vacuum and only see when they are spoken to, no time to join the dots before the next eclipse, never knowing if what they saw was something I thought I imagined for them to believe and not knowing why threes a cloud. The conjuring auteur