[Podcast] Popularium – Jurupari, tradutor traidor

Colecionador de Sacis

Está no ar o mais um episódio do podcast que produzo para o Mundo Freak! Serão 10 episódios do Popularium publicados quinzenalmente, onde vamos abordar com profundidade mitos e lendas brasileiras. Neste programa, vamos falar do Jurupari como mito da incomunicabilidade.

Confira o Popularium! Folclore brasileiro como você nunca ouviu. Ouça aqui.

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Roteiro:
Essa história não se passa em uma cidadezinha desconhecida, daquelas onde a luz elétrica ainda teima em não alcançar. Também não aconteceu em uma noite de lua cheia, não ocorreu com algum amigo de um amigo meu, e nem se deu em uma época muito, muito distante.

Não, essa história aconteceu em 2002, no município de Santarém – o principal centro urbano do oeste do Pará. No dia 01 de outubro daquele ano, um jovem da etnia Waiwai deu entrada na Casa de Saúde Indígena da cidade. Segundo seu próprio relato, ao sair para caçar, o…

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Police Take Selfie As Reminder To Drunk Man On How We Made It To Bed

JONATHAN TURLEY

af74dd44faed6bb126b85b8bb88c40ffA If Reece Park could not quite remember how he made it home after his bender the night before, this helpful selfie might refresh his hazy memory.  Tasmanian Constables Natalie Siggins and Jeremy Blyth decided to take Park home and put him to bed after spotting him drunk on the street.  They memorialized the moment for the morning after.

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Saisons brouillées … 

Le monde est dans tes yeux ...

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Saisons brouillées
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Quand naissent les fleurs au chant des oiseaux

Ton étrange voix gravement résonne,

Et comme aux échos des forêts d’automne

Un pressentiment court jusqu’en mes os.
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Quand l’or des moissons mûrit sous la flamme,

Ton lointain sourire à peine tracé

Me pénètre ainsi qu’un brouillard glacé.

L’hiver boréal envahit mon âme.
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Quand saignent au soir les bois dépouillés,

L’odeur de ta main laisse dans la mienne

L’odeur des printemps d’une étoile ancienne,

Et je sombre au fond d’espoirs oubliés.
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Es-tu donc un monde au rebours du nôtre

Changeant et mortel, où je vis aussi ?

Soumis à lui seul, insensible ici,

Si je meurs dans l’un, survivrai-je en l’autre ?
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Je regarderai dans tes yeux ouverts

Quand viendront le froid, la neige et la pluie.

La perdrai-je encor, mon âme éblouie,

Dans tes yeux brûlants comme…

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How To Build Your Author Press/Media Kit

The Writing Train: Join the locomotion

IT’S TELEVISION TUESDAY!!

With Kristen Martin

television

How To Build Your Author Press/Media Kit

Do you have an Author Press/Media Kit?  Tell me in the comments!

Benjamin Thomas

@thewritingtrain

http://www.mysterythrillerweek.com

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Traffic

Eyes + Words

Written by Jacob Ibrag

Premeditated.

He walks with no regard to

traffic regulation. A car swerves around

him and stops in the middle of the street. A woman

swings the door open and catches up to him, ‘you’ll always

be her daddy, her hero and best friend.’ He turns around

and asks her to let him be. ‘Blood may separate

us,’ she whispers, ‘yet our hearts are

one in the same.’


Photographer Unknown

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Lessons from ‘water’ 🌊

Prerna's blog

Image result for water wallpaper

Water is the elixir of life. It represents the soul of an ideal human, beautifully and artfully. We already know the characteristics and properties of water but have we ever looked out for the deeper meaning?

~Water dissolves most of the substances in it. It is a universal solvent.

One should embrace all the positivity and let all the negativity be the residue. We should accept people the way they are. Molding people according to our ways destroy their own essence and beauty.

~Pure water is transparent and crystal clear.

This tells us to have pure and magnanimous heart as well as soul. Having a hidden face or personality can have deleterious effects and break the trust of loved ones.

~Water is unconfined and flows fluently

One must learn to let go off things that are disturbing and make one restless. Keep the life smooth and easy. Forgetting the past…

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The place where love sings

Jane Dougherty Writes

Since Colleen is off on her travels, there is no Tanka Tuesday. Since Colleen isn’t around to make the rules, I have used last week’s prompt again (Past and Future) to make an ottava rima.

Odilon_Redon_002The sun has set on that long ago day,

Hundreds of times—these small deaths of the light,

Snuffed out by the dark, since you went away—

And I walk alone with shades of the night.

Echoes of laughter and sunlight still play

In the halls of the past, bright birds with no flight.

Through mists of tomorrow I search for my wings,

Feathered dreams, flying home to the place where love sings.

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