Marina Muller

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What Design Can’t...
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Apr 20, 2026 12:08AM

 
Family Lexicon
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Apr 23, 2026 12:00AM

 
The Umbrella
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Gabriel García Márquez
“Havia achado, sempre, que morrer de amor não era outra coisa além de licença poética. Naquela tarde, de regresso para casa, outra vez, sem o gato e sem ela, comprovei que não apenas era possível, mas que eu mesmo, velho e sem ninguém, estava morrendo de amor. E também percebi que era válida a verdade contrária: não trocaria por nada neste mundo as delícias de meu desassossego.”
Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez, Memories of My Melancholy Whores
tags: amor

Haruki Murakami
“As we go through life we gradually discover who we are, but the more we discover, the more we lose ourselves.”
Haruki Murakami, Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage

Valter Hugo Mãe
“precisava deste resto de solidão para aprender sobre este resto de companhia. este resto de vida, américo, que eu julguei já ser um excesso, uma aberração, deu-me estes amigos. e eu que nunca percebi a amizade, nunca esperei nada da solidariedade, apenas da contingência da coabitação, um certo ir obedecendo, ser carneiro. eu precisava deste resto de solidão para aprender sobre este resto de amizade.”
valter hugo mãe, A máquina de fazer espanhóis

Gabriel García Márquez
“I always had understood that dying of love was mere poetic license. That afternoon, back home again without the cat and without her, I proved that it was not only possible but that I myself, an old man without anyone, was dying of love. But I also realized that the contrary was true as well: I would not have traded the delights of my suffering for anything in the world. I had spent more than fifteen years trying to translate the poems of Leopardi, and only on that afternoon did I have a profound sense of them: Ah, me, if this is love, then how it torments.”
Gabriel García Márquez, Memories of My Melancholy Whores

Olivia Laing
“Loneliness is personal, and it is also political. Loneliness is collective; it is a city. As to how to inhabit it, there are no rules and nor is there any need to feel shame, only to remember that the pursuit of individual happiness does not trump or excuse our obligations to each another. We are in this together, this accumulation of scars, this world of objects, this physical and temporary heaven that so often takes on the countenance of hell. What matters is kindness; what matters is solidarity. What matters is staying alert, staying open, because if we know anything from what has gone before us, it is that the time for feeling will not last.”
Olivia Laing, The Lonely City: Adventures in the Art of Being Alone

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