There is Sadness in Saudade

The closest equivalent of this Portuguese word saudade in English can be “melancholy” or “yearning”. We’ve heard of so-called “untranslatable” words. Well, there’s no exact English equivalent for saudade. Portuguese themselves are unable to easily describe the word. One writer defines it as a constant vague desire for something that does not and probably cannot exist.

The Emaciated Young Man

I first vaguely noticed someone hovering in front of the restaurant just outside the clear wide window glasses where I was having lunch. The emaciated young man finally caught my probing eyes. I was uncertain whether he briefly smiled to me or at me, although there was no denying that his eyes earnestly focused on my plate. He looked straight at me again with what I finally considered a false mournful smile as he moved away a little farther to sit on a bench near the front door without forgetting of throwing once more a lingering look at the food on my plate.

Beaver – my intellectual companion

My tiny companion’s name is Simone Lucie Marie Ernestine Bertrand de Beauvoir Fiel Prima. It’s my feminist daughter who baptized her that not very short name inspired by her idolized French philosopher. But, we all dearly call our Shorkie just Beaver. It’s the same nickname of Simone de Beauvoir as fondly called by her long time companion, the existentialist philosopher Jean-Paul Sarthe.


In the book The Photography of William T. Vollmann, it says that, “‘When doing research and when taking documentary photographs, it is essential “to capture candid moments of reality.’ Therefore, a significant ethical guideline within the field is to never intentionally influence the scene or involve oneself with the subjects at hand.”

A Whimsical Farce In A Dystopian Hollywood Flick

“How many prisoners are there going to be, fifteen years from now? And they found they could predict it very easily, using a pretty simple algorithm, based about asking what percentage of ten- and eleven-year-olds couldn’t read. And certainly couldn’t read for pleasure.” – Neil Gaiman in a beautiful piece titled “Why Our Future Depends on Libraries, Reading and Daydreaming.”