log entry: new links on the side

a new bunch of links in the link space bar on the side...
em recentes explorações espaciais a ship encontrou um sistema planetário em desespero... como tal, especial atenção para os links relacionados com o rapto de vacas e o planeta alienigena Brittlelactica...
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log entry: 1095...

Saudações De repente, quase sem dar por isso, apercebi-me... ontem foi o 3º aniversário desta nave, na sua viagem pelo universo virtual... 1095 dias no espaço... passada a fronteira nunca imaginada das 8000 visitas... Parabéns. Greetings, I suddenly realized, by chance, that yesterday was the 3rd aniversary of this humble blog lost in the virtual void... this ship has now 1095 days in space... reaching the never imagined border of 8000 visits... Congratulations. the captain

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You have 5 seconds to tell me the name of the 2012 Pritzker prized architect

You have Pritzkers and you have... Pretzels. You have Jewish Pretzel and you have Chinese Pritzker. No obvious relation here, but then again, this certainly won´t be an obvious line of thought. Pretzel is Jewish food, and Pritzker is a prized architect. The last pritzker on the table is Chinese and the last pretzel on the table is still Jewish. No relation there either... But, sometimes, Jewish related business is often political, and, in a wild assumption, architecture is political too. Or perhaps, for the sake of political correctness argument: architecture is often politicized ... Another big difference is that Pretzels are largely known around the globe. The last Chinese awarded with the Pritzker prize is not. Every architect I know, and I know allot of them, didn’t had a clue who the hell is Wang Shu. This can mean one of two things: or this guy was dough from a whole by political reasons, or it tells something about the poor quality of my frien...

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log entry: mãe, o que é o amor?

- Mãe o que é o amor? - O amor é como o mar, grande e profundo, às vezes cristalino, outras vezes turvo. - Mãe, quanto amor cabe num copo de água? - Filho, o amor não cabe num copo. Tal como o mar ele não serve para beber, mas sim mergulhar. - Mãe, vamos até à praia que eu quero amar! Algo que escrevi faz uns anos...

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my walkie-talkie

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