All Forms of Art

A luta prossegue dia após dia, até que a vida se encarregue de tocar nova melodia. E quando estamos quase a desistir, quando mais nada queremos fazer, desistimos de insistir, e então a vida faz acontecer. É uma pequena ironia, que o mundo usa para nos recordar “Não vale a pena tanta euforia, O que é teu, a ti irá parar.” (Imagem: multimdiarafael34491.blogspot.com)

Daughter of Dust is a biographical book about Leila Aziz, a sudanese orphaned girl, raised among other children in her condition in the “Institute for the Protected”, in which, no one was really protected. As she grows, all Leila wants is to lead a normal life and to be respected by the world. Subjects like female mutilation, the punishment for having sex out of wedlock, among others, are exposed by the eyes of a child that oftentimes doesn't really understand what is happening. This story calls out against the way women are treated in Sudan. For that, Wallace refuses to write it in a overly sentimental way, she describes what's happening in a crude and direct way, that makes us shocked and angry. Any change in Leila's life is a new possibility and you will find yourself wishing for her to succeed and find a safer place. Along its pages, Leila fights for what she believes in, what she wants, and never lets her birth condition determine her whole life.

Dogs bark, children laugh, and the world carries on. But I am still here, looking through the window, seeing life out there. I was a part of that once, but now, it's just a strange feeling. I do not belong here nor there, or anywhere for that matter. I belong in my magical worlds, built by me, from top to bottom, I belong with my characters, sharing their adventures and trying to survive the crazy realms I constructed for them. My mission is to complicate their lives and then help them search for a way out. Clicking on my computer, scratching with my pencil, any small move can create either a new life, or destroy it completely. I'm a writer. I do not lead an ordinary life. I have a lot of lives—in different places, with different people! I can do magic, believe, kill, or resurrect. I'm a writer; I'm a god in my own world. (Image: umblogdoben.wordpress.com)

Today, I share with you a little sarcastic poem about the way people see talent to avoid being responsible for their actions. It would be much easier if we didn't need to work for something we wanted, wouldn't it? Talent This nothing made everything, into the core power behind all we need, is something we might very well have, yet is not required indeed. It's the easier way of doing things, the one without hard work, There isn't much to say about it, You're either born with it, or not. It tends to make everything easier It puts no responsibility on you, No one can just call out the truth, That the failure lies in you.  (Imagem: www.bigmovie.me)