Curry ...Hurry...Fabulous 3,14

I wonder if 3,14 could be part of the Fibonacci sequence, in the sense that these sequence of numbers can have thousand of different symbolic meanings ...who could knew that the curry fruits were like this?...so who could know that my friend 3,14 can be...a excquisite cook...an amazing person...too young yet to have everything in life...like wine to become more with time and endeavours...your time will come SOON....
Meanwhile my next posts will talk about curry!!!!!!
Curry in a hurry!

for 1 person
1 chicken brest finely sliced
4 garlic cloves
2 spoons of olive oil
4 spoons of powder curry
1 small cup of coffe of basmaty rice
1 cup of coffe of coconut milk

Cut thin slices of chicken....smash some garlic cloves...fried the garlic in a wok with a spoon full of olive oil....( oh a spoon full of sugar helps the medecine go down...the medecine go down...the medecine go down....)
When the garlic cloves are golden , join the thin slices of chicken , let it frie...than sprinkle a spoon full of curry and let the fragance be freed....add coconut milk qb...serve with basmati 8 ' rice ( or pimenta's secret recipy).

Amanhã faço anos

As Teorias neo de Neo... um jovem muito interessante...

Lá fomos...para dentro desse inominavel local de tertulia que nunca curti...nem eu, nem os meus companheiros de noitada...mas interessava re-encontrar esse jovem de carburador acelerado, de electrificante e contagiante entusiasmo...embora eu tivesse estranhos planos para este jovem e um dos meus companheiros de viagem...

A nuvem de fumo pairava como sempre acima das cabeças dos frequentadores do Aquário...o empregado, deve ser o unico ser vivo que se aproveita no meio daquele antro de Bé Tus...essa casta...infelizemente não em vias de extinção, mas que ao mesmo tempo tem a virtude de colorir a fauna de tertulias conimbricenses...quando entramos...como é regra naquele hot spot de benzocas o publico roda invariavelmente a cabeça em rotação de 180º para ter uma visão ampla da porta...mira-nos de alto a baixo e retoma a conversa no ponto em que não tinham parado...embalados por um sorriso enganador ou uma piada mal curtida...

Neo lá estava...assim o vou baptizar...e o que Neo disse fazia muito sentido...

A primeira verdade foi:

Tudo o que fazemos na vida não passa de um método para nos iludirmos...

Descodificando...o aquario a que me refiro é o cafe avenida na minha terra natal...os planos para neo sairam gorados...na realidade eu queria que neo conhecesse a pi...achei que se iam dar bem...erro...a pi detestou o neo...o neo nem ligou a pi...

Remember...remember the 5th of November....

Incredible this movie I saw already twice in a week...we live in troubled times even today...and I feel that people do not speak or act because they fear...fear the consequences of speaking out their opinion, of being seen..may I say that everyday we fear more and more speaking on the phones...stating our mind wide open...and yet we live in democracy...
So I almost felt that we need an idea...something that can make us stronger and fearless....
Here is a wonderfull poem by Kippling...
A Pict Song
"The Winged Hats"--Puck of Pook's Hill


Rome never looks where she treads.
Always her heavy hooves fall
On our stomachs, our hearts or our heads;
And Rome never heeds when we bawl.
Her sentries pass on--that is all,
And we gather behind them in hordes,
And plot to reconquer the Wall,
With only our tongues for our swords.

We are the Little Folk--we!
Too little to love or to hate.
Leave us alone and you'll see
How we can drag down the State!
We are the worm in the wood!
We are the rot at the root!
We are the taint in the blood!
We are the thorn in the foot!

Mistletoe killing an oak--
Rats gnawing cables in two--
Moths making holes in a cloak--
How they must love what they do!
Yes--and we Little Folk too,
We are busy as they--
Working our works out of view--
Watch, and you'll see it some day!

No indeed! We are not strong,
But we know Peoples that are.
Yes, and we'll guide them along
To smash and destroy you in War!
We shall be slaves just the same?
Yes, we have always been slaves,
But you--you will die of the shame,
And then we shall dance on your graves!

We are the Little Folk, we, etc.