balances
Sometimes in the game you can not find that rhythm and that set of movements that instead finds himself in his own mental projections. Not you can let go as they would in a nutshell.
depends on the pace of the companion course, but above all by themselves.
If we are unable to adapt to the pace of the game, the balance is broken.
The music and the songs are more faint and distant, and the muscles do not move with reactivity. What needs to be
game becomes inertia.
As if you lose your balance, perhaps too bold a move, and you risk falling.
mate they might enjoy, even unwittingly, and then you have to get up. Quickly.
The hand rest on the ground and returns just in time to support the body, lowers his head to the side door and a soft circular motion, are feet again. Ginga now flows more freely and the music regains volume. The drums have low
the rhythm of my heart now.
Now I understand the rhythm and follow it.
fluid movements come and I'm closer to who's playing with me and kicked and fit perfectly: we have the same rhythm and the game becomes a wave that rises and falls and breaks into a near-perfect rhythm.
more daring jumps and movements, now I can afford, leaving me with no thoughts that can guide them, as a spray of water, and the distance between me and the partner is minimized, not just the physical distance, but the ' other, the one that leads the roda.
The pace then gets up, he can now do so, and the game gets hectic, intuition, absolute freedom, and two of us to hear.
I have no breath, nor do I need it: my body moves on its own, fast and responsive and the companion is with me.
This is basically the most important feature of capoeira, adaptability.
In case the game does not do my body sweat pearls, but look who plays with me and began to smile.
roda can now proceed.
Tuesday, May 9, 2006
Friday, May 5, 2006
Tuesday, May 2, 2006
Kerastase Helps Hair Grow Faster
SB
Country all arcs and steps, lanes and climb.
not ever go down, go up only.
country where everyone greet me as if I were the place, maybe they would like it to be, or believe it even if only I seem to be so different and so far from the tranquility and silence.
But certain places I can see them, to see them and understand them. I see some magic in that place. Maybe they have understood that greet me.
Roads that unfold before me, day and night, cold water, the smell of the beach and olives.
wine and beer, fun and distances shorter, words thrown into the air with less fear they fall and break.
Sometimes an undeserved pain I shake the base of the chest and makes me damn evil. It makes me like they are not.
swallow and throw down, I can do yet, and believe even more.
I want to be above the pain. Anger
the jet behind me, like salt launches x good luck, and there is only light and the smell that I feel, what makes me feel so good, that smell I carry on every day.
smell of clothes, and sea lanes, the smell of cold wind on the beach.
Smell of hands and skin, history. The view
Country all arcs and steps, lanes and climb.
not ever go down, go up only.
country where everyone greet me as if I were the place, maybe they would like it to be, or believe it even if only I seem to be so different and so far from the tranquility and silence.
But certain places I can see them, to see them and understand them. I see some magic in that place. Maybe they have understood that greet me.
Roads that unfold before me, day and night, cold water, the smell of the beach and olives.
wine and beer, fun and distances shorter, words thrown into the air with less fear they fall and break.
Sometimes an undeserved pain I shake the base of the chest and makes me damn evil. It makes me like they are not.
swallow and throw down, I can do yet, and believe even more.
I want to be above the pain. Anger
the jet behind me, like salt launches x good luck, and there is only light and the smell that I feel, what makes me feel so good, that smell I carry on every day.
smell of clothes, and sea lanes, the smell of cold wind on the beach.
Smell of hands and skin, history. The view
Friday, April 28, 2006
What Does All Nighter Wood Stove Look Like
smell of beach
fogs and I can not see if it's sunny outside.
Inside is if nothing else. At times some rain cloud covers it, but there is always the wind ready to sweep it away. The view
fogs up and I see everything blurred, as if I'm under water: it must be sleeping. Or the sadness that sometimes comes without first bothering to tell, right to education, if there are persapere .. arrives and is installed, melancholy orange, which brings some old thoughts and good smell.
Today I was reminded that big red tin that was full of dough for the apple pie, sugary and dense that I robbed with the spoon, while my grandmother cut the apples into thin slices. I came to feel that scent.
Then came the smell of a beach that I know well, because it is mine.
A beach where I lived by night and by day of the things I've lived other. Very different during those years hardly believe it's the same beach.
And I've always preferred the evening when the sun has just set and not go any more, but the sky is still clear. And the calm water. Always.
Smell of evenings in solitude, thoughts of smell, the smell of expectations for the nights that would follow. Smell of departures and travel, sometimes with regrets.
Smell of friendship and dawn, the smell of beer and smoke.
odor odor removed in a dip in cold water, the last dive for the day.
Smell of walking barefoot and dinner and hot shower.
I want to go and find that beach. I want you to come with me.
fogs and I can not see if it's sunny outside.
Inside is if nothing else. At times some rain cloud covers it, but there is always the wind ready to sweep it away. The view
fogs up and I see everything blurred, as if I'm under water: it must be sleeping. Or the sadness that sometimes comes without first bothering to tell, right to education, if there are persapere .. arrives and is installed, melancholy orange, which brings some old thoughts and good smell.
Today I was reminded that big red tin that was full of dough for the apple pie, sugary and dense that I robbed with the spoon, while my grandmother cut the apples into thin slices. I came to feel that scent.
Then came the smell of a beach that I know well, because it is mine.
A beach where I lived by night and by day of the things I've lived other. Very different during those years hardly believe it's the same beach.
And I've always preferred the evening when the sun has just set and not go any more, but the sky is still clear. And the calm water. Always.
Smell of evenings in solitude, thoughts of smell, the smell of expectations for the nights that would follow. Smell of departures and travel, sometimes with regrets.
Smell of friendship and dawn, the smell of beer and smoke.
odor odor removed in a dip in cold water, the last dive for the day.
Smell of walking barefoot and dinner and hot shower.
I want to go and find that beach. I want you to come with me.
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