Tirei este domingo para assistir a Memórias de um Assassino.
Foi interessante acompanhar a diferença entre os métodos do detetive Park e do detetive Sang-kyung e, conforme a história se desenrola, perceber como os dois vão se tornando cada vez mais parecidos.
10/10
Me arrependo de todos os perfis que excluí, principalmente os do facebook...
Tinham muitas fotos do meu tempo de escola lá que eu gostaria de ter guardado hoje
Sou refém da nostalgia
Com o passar dos anos, fui me afastando de tudo o que eu amava. Passei anos me convencendo de que isso era bom para mim...
"Não preciso disso, não preciso daquilo e blá-blá-blá"
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Ativei minha conta do Instagram hoje na esperança de achar uma amiga do tempo de escola e conforme eu ia procurando, me dei conta de que era como se estivesse me procurando, não estou em lugar nenhum, assim como ela e infelizmente não sei onde ela mora
Dostoevsky was 28 when they stood him in front of a firing squad. Blindfolded. Hands tied. He could hear the rifles being loaded.
At the last second a messenger on horseback arrived. The Tsar had commuted the sentence. The entire execution was staged. Psychological torture designed to break him.
It worked. He had a seizure on the spot.
They sent him to a labour camp in Siberia. 4 years. Freezing. Starving. Sleeping on wooden planks next to murderers. His epilepsy got worse. He had no paper. No pen. Nothing.
When he got out he was broke. His first wife died. His brother died. He inherited his brothers debts. He was so desperate for money he signed a contract with a publisher that would have given away the rights to everything hed ever write if he missed the deadline.
He wrote The Gambler in 26 days to make it. Dictated it to a 20 year old stenographer named Anna. Married her three months later.
Then the real work started. Crime and Punishment. The Idiot. Demons. The Brothers Karamazov. The greatest novels in the history of the Russian language. Maybe any language.
The man who stood blindfolded before the firing squad, who convulsed on the ground while soldiers watched, who slept next to killers in Siberia for 4 years, who was buried in debt and grief.
That man wrote: "every minute can be an eternity of happiness."
He earned the right to say it.
its never over. never give up fren.
Terminei de ler hoje, o livro O Espadachim de Carvão, de Affonso Solano
Um amigo, que é muito fã de fantasia, já vinha me indicando esse livro há alguns anos, mas eu nunca encontrava um “bom” momento para lê-lo 😂
Gostei demais da leitura e pretendo ler os outros dois livros