A smiling child

Writing about music is not in my agenda as there are people who do it a million times better. I'll make an exception with this post: the other day I was cleaning the shelves and found a dusty CDr with a badly written name on it, which was Holocaust - Primal. I didn’t even recall that Holocaust was that NWOBHM band from Scotland—The Nightcomers anyone?—. Later, I read that after all these years they never called it quits. I didn’t even know that this was their last album to date. Obviously, I’ve never heard it and it was about time as Primal was released ten years ago!

This piece of music is riddled with sombre lyrics, restraining aggression and a constant feeling of despair. But the picture isn’t all black: a few hints of hope are scattered throughout. Just like life. It’s not the perfect album, but somehow it is. I’m not sure whether it’s extraordinary or average. Maybe next week I’ll forget it completely. Maybe not. What I am sure is that the album in general, and the last song in particular touched me in a very special way:

Now the sunshine of youth is gone
Possibilities become so few…
What do you see in the eyes of a child?

Uncorrupted wonder.

Sad surrender to mature consensus,
Determined to forget past inspirations,
Find a photograph from days gone by,
A smiling child… it's you…
Uncorrupted Joy.

Will you ever see beyond the shadows again?

Words enough.


Sleep mode

All of my pages in the sidebar have suddenly disappeared. Maybe it’s about time to redesign this site and move on from blogger. Maybe it's time to start from scratch. Maybe it’s time to put this to rest. Maybe to do something new and exciting. What is certain is that now it’s time to abandon the comfort zone.
If the truth be told, I am getting a little tired of living here, so I don’t entirely dismiss the possibility of relocating elsewhere. I know that Portugal is not exactly the first country that pops into mind when searching for better job opportunities… but Hell! things are not much better here in Northwest Spain.
Assim, há algum tripeiro que gostasse de contar como é que estão as coisas por lá? Acho que sou estupidamente louco, mais só se vive uma vez.