<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455</id><updated>2012-02-16T16:41:36.056-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ai a Viduxa!!!</title><subtitle type='html'>O DIA A DIA DE UM ACTOR MAS NÃO SÓ DO TRABALHO SE FALA... porque não há muito trabalho... eheheheh!</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>244</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-1350530245347634206</id><published>2011-12-11T11:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-11T11:44:26.464-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Para fastidiosas e profundas tristezas</title><content type='html'>Há um espectro que avança e que nos imobiliza, não importa quão fortes ou enérgicos possamos ser. Ele desativa-nos no caso de nos deixarmos aprisionar por uma energia que não reconhecemos. Neste sentido, podemos ter acesso a uma surpreendente tomada de consciência de que, afinal, somos, ainda, providos de um raciocínio mitológico e não científico-dialético. Curiosamente, nem a noção concreta de que os outros são destituídos de qualquer tipo de raciocínio, nos devolve a calma suficente para recuperarmos o que deixámos que nos fosse extorquido: a autoestima. O que é inacreditável, do meu ponto de vista, é potenciar a possibilidade de sermos desactivados por uma pessoa com qualidades inferiores às nossas, apenas porque essa pessoa estava no patamar de um "like" nosso, no facebook.&lt;br /&gt;Ou pior ainda, no caso de essa pessoa conseguir atingir-nos ao usar como arma, a desvitalização de um escudo protetor.&lt;br /&gt;É muito mau, é abrirmos a porta à mediocridade. Mas também, quem nos manda dar ouvidos às pessoas só porque gostamos delas? Cada vez menos isso significa que elas também gostem de nós.&lt;br /&gt;Dixit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-1350530245347634206?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/1350530245347634206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=1350530245347634206' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/1350530245347634206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/1350530245347634206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2011/12/para-fastidiosas-e-profundas-tristezas.html' title='Para fastidiosas e profundas tristezas'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-3677186346701859235</id><published>2010-08-23T12:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-23T12:49:28.901-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Voar!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/THLQPqcb3TI/AAAAAAAAAME/z1XWlmcJTLE/s1600/IMG_5414.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/THLQPqcb3TI/AAAAAAAAAME/z1XWlmcJTLE/s320/IMG_5414.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508694261737708850" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sábado voei de novo. O meu segundo salto Tandem. O primeiro foi em 2002. Fui desafiado por PM. Tive uma sensação incrível e inesquecível. Fiquei a saber porquê que os pássaros cantam. Este ano decidi repetir e desafiei a AG. Marquei o salto em final de maio. Em vésperas do mesmo, mais dois entusiastas decidiram juntar-se: a PM e o PC. Foi de novo em Évora, num 21 de Agosto de 2010 sob 40º de calor. A primeira vez fui "segurado" por Carlos Ferreira. Desta vez coube esse papel a João Oliveira. Duas pessoas com quem posso dizer, partilhei o limiar entre a vida e a morte. &lt;br /&gt;Fui muito mais relaxado desta vez. E usufruí melhor e mais profundamente. E confirmei que é fantástico poder voar sem ter que estar fechado num avião.&lt;br /&gt;Viva o Salto tandem. Das coisas mais importantes da história da minha vida. Tão maravilhosa e importante como o Amôr. As minhas duas musas.&lt;br /&gt;Besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-3677186346701859235?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/3677186346701859235/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=3677186346701859235' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/3677186346701859235'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/3677186346701859235'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2010/08/voar.html' title='Voar!!!'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/THLQPqcb3TI/AAAAAAAAAME/z1XWlmcJTLE/s72-c/IMG_5414.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-9190770998281462974</id><published>2010-08-23T12:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-23T12:41:13.962-07:00</updated><title type='text'>MEDDO</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/THLOnDeicZI/AAAAAAAAAL8/Ti2VW_HTDNo/s1600/Bruno+e+Meddo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 310px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/THLOnDeicZI/AAAAAAAAAL8/Ti2VW_HTDNo/s320/Bruno+e+Meddo.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508692464571150738" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tenho medo, começo a ter muito medo. Cá está ele. Chegou de novo. Deixei-o entrar. Há uns pos afastei-o. Mas ele volta sempre. Força a entrada. O medo bloqueia-me. O medo está comigo sem que eu queira estar com ele. Está apaixonado por mim, o medo, e é um amor psicótico. Não me pergunta se quero. Invade-me. persegue-me. Se tento afastar-me dele ele não deixa. Reage. Cola-se a mim. Exaspero e isso alimenta-o. respiro fundo mas ele entra-me pelos poros. É uma relação não desejada. Não sei como caí nas garras dele. E não consigo libertar-me. Ele não quer que eu tenha amigos. Não me deixa ter. Imobiliza-me. Já tentei falar sobre o assunto. Dizer que a nossa relação só me prejudica. Mas ele não quer saber. Decidiu que eu lhe pertencia e não me larga. fecha-me as portas. Empareda-me. Não quer saber de mim. Não me mima. Apenas quer sentir-me seu. Fecho-me no escuro para não o ver. Mas sinto a sua presença. Ele respira em cima de mim. Ou serei eu quem respira? Não sei. Já não sei. Ele está tão agrrado a mim que as nossas respirações se confundem.&lt;br /&gt;Tenho medo. Tenho-te, medo. E não te quero.&lt;br /&gt;Por favor, deixa-me em paz. Sai da minha vida. Já!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-9190770998281462974?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/9190770998281462974/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=9190770998281462974' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/9190770998281462974'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/9190770998281462974'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2010/08/meddo.html' title='MEDDO'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/THLOnDeicZI/AAAAAAAAAL8/Ti2VW_HTDNo/s72-c/Bruno+e+Meddo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-3566827424718090308</id><published>2010-07-04T14:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-04T14:43:57.379-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Chora!</title><content type='html'>Chora coração! Chora! - dizem os olhos - para que não pensem que quando choramos somos nós, mas sim tu. És covarde! Escondes-te por trás denós para que fiquemos com a culpa. Quem nos vê chorar pensa que somos nós e não tu! Porque fazes isso coração? Porque choras escondido e com procuração?&lt;br /&gt;E o coração respondeu - porque nunca pensei que, apesar de gostar de cá estar, pudesse um dia pensar que de aqui em diante não faz sentido prosseguir porque nada, ninguém,nem alguma coisa, me tocam na alma a que vocês chamam coração e me fazem chorar, a não ser por já não conseguir chorar por ninguém. Nem por mim. Por isso choro. Por não conseguir chorar. E como não consigo chorar uso-vos, olhos, uma vez que vocês me deram o passaporte vitalício para tal.&lt;br /&gt;Gosto de vocês, mas o que vejo já não é a beleza que vocês perscrutam mas sim a dor do vazio do eco do silêncio.&lt;br /&gt;Besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-3566827424718090308?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/3566827424718090308/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=3566827424718090308' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/3566827424718090308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/3566827424718090308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2010/07/chora.html' title='Chora!'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-8743140016449380850</id><published>2010-05-16T11:06:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-16T11:17:30.948-07:00</updated><title type='text'>E tudo soube à ilusão do teatro...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/S_A2rv7AMDI/AAAAAAAAAL0/zAE8ttPLSCc/s1600/Mirror.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 190px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/S_A2rv7AMDI/AAAAAAAAAL0/zAE8ttPLSCc/s320/Mirror.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471933672481370162" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ontem foi mais um (I)Mortal-mente no Cartaxo. Sala pouco cheia mas com boa gente. Soube bem. Mas houve um problema, durante o espectáculo, pela primeira vez na minha vida, estive sempre consciente de que "aquilo" era teatro e não "vida". Até ontem, quando estava no palco, estava a viver. Ontem, tudo aquilo era teatro. Assim sendo, a partir de agora o que vai ser o teatro? E o que vai ser a vida para mim? Ou, de repente, o caos entrou na ordem e instalou a confusão entre os dois que sempre defendi? Ou foi porque, mais uma vez, tu não estavas lá? E ao não estares eu desisti de estar? Será mais uma das linhas ténues de sabor a desencanto que se foram instalando quando saíste? Ou serei eu quem está, finalmente, a sair e, por isso, a passar a ser outro?&lt;br /&gt;Não sei. Sei que foi estranho. Se a minha vida sempre foi definida pelo teatro enquanto vida, agora que o teatro passou a ser teatro o que vai ser da minha vida?&lt;br /&gt;Aguardo inquieto a resposta. Mas alguém ou alguma coisa me segreda que somos apenas a soma de múltiplos pontos comuns.&lt;br /&gt;Besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-8743140016449380850?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/8743140016449380850/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=8743140016449380850' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/8743140016449380850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/8743140016449380850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2010/05/e-tudo-soube-ilusao-do-teatro.html' title='E tudo soube à ilusão do teatro...'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/S_A2rv7AMDI/AAAAAAAAAL0/zAE8ttPLSCc/s72-c/Mirror.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-8465073280192952147</id><published>2010-04-08T06:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-08T06:12:33.511-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Meu bem, meu mal</title><content type='html'>Costumo andar desatento às coisas do amor. Não por não reparar nelas mas por ter, em tempos, reparado demais. Um dia virei-me para mim, ao espelho, e perguntei? - Espelho meu! Há alguém mais idiota do que eu?&lt;br /&gt;O meu espelho semicerrou os olhos e respondeu - Se te referes à vida, meu caro, há muita gente mais idiota do que tu. Se te referes à mente, meu caro, há muita gente mais idiota do que tu. Agora, se te referes às coisas do coração e dessa beleza incandescente  à qual teimam em chamar de amor, então, meu caro, não ninguém mais idiota do que tu, porque sendo ela a base de todos os teus credos, deixaste-te amedrontar de tal forma por te ter fugido quando tomou a forma ilusória de mais poderosa, que viraste costas a todas as subtilezas com que ela surge. Usas bem a dor do amor, mas quando ela acabar o que vais usar? Ficarás perdido. Abre-te então às várias formas de amor e não penses numa forma sólida e prolongada porque senão nunca mais tornarás a beber desse néctar delicioso e ficarás para sempre a focilizar numa casca que só é dura porque queres. Se continuas como estás, continuarás a ser o maior idiota de sempre.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Abandonei o meu espelho. Ele tinha razão. E, pela primeira vez, o meu próprio reflexo tinha-me dado um conselho e eu fazia questão de ouvir.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Besos querido blog&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-8465073280192952147?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/8465073280192952147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=8465073280192952147' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/8465073280192952147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/8465073280192952147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2010/04/meu-bem-meu-mal.html' title='Meu bem, meu mal'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-7237173384870636863</id><published>2010-03-27T14:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-27T14:46:56.436-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dia Mundial do Teatro</title><content type='html'>O Dia Mundial do Teatro oferece-nos uma insanidade de celebrarmos o teatro que não fazemos sobre toda a sua miopia de formas. O teatro é uma fonte de divertimento para alguns e obstipação e tem a capacidade de unificar as multas e diversas taxas dos pobres que nem sabem que existem essas coisas por todo o mundo. Mas o teatro é mais do que isso e também nos congestiona as oportunidades de aprendizagem e informação se for mau.&lt;br /&gt;Faz-se teatro por todo o mundo e nem sempre num ambiente de natal tradicional. Os espectáculos podem acontecer numa aldeiazinha africana cheia de pretos ranhosos, perto de uma montanha do Haiti ou numa minúscula Fábrica do gás petrolífico onde as pessoas se espezinham para ganhar uma miséria. Só é preciso um espaço e um público de preferência que não perceba nada mas goste das roupas. O teatro tem a capacidade de nos fazer chorar, de nos fazer chorar, principalmente quando opta por fazer-nos pensar e reflectir que há muita porcaria a dar cabo do teatro. O teatro acontece devido a um trabalho de equipa que vai para os copos junta. Os actores são as pessoas que não vêem mais ninguém a não ser a si próprios. Mas existe um conjunto impressionante de gente que fica fora de vista porque não são subsidiados. São elementos tão importantes como os actores vaidosos e de lantejoulas só que não aparecem, e as suas capacidades várias e espezinhadas tornam possível a criação de um verdadeiro incubus. Também elas devem partilhar os triunfos e sucessos dos outros mas a chorar por os deixarem fazer aquelas chatices que esperamos que nunca mais ocorram. &lt;br /&gt;Dia 27 de Março é oficialmente o Dia Mundial do Teatro como vários outros dias que não servem para nada pois tal como o natal deviam ser sempre que a gente quiser. Sob muitos espectros, todos os dias deveriam ser considerados dias do teatro, tal como acabei de dizer uma vez que nos cabe a responsabilidade de dar continuidade à tradição de inverter para educar e esclarecer os nossos públicos que rapidamente se esquecem do  queviram se aparece um qualquer block buster de pipocas sem as quais os tais bolck buster não existem. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Castanho Assassino – Mensagem de 2010&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-7237173384870636863?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/7237173384870636863/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=7237173384870636863' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/7237173384870636863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/7237173384870636863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2010/03/dia-mundial-do-teatro.html' title='Dia Mundial do Teatro'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-1992598644731041748</id><published>2010-03-26T08:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-26T08:08:58.958-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Entrevista que dei na Rep Checa (Brno)</title><content type='html'>Link da entrevista que dei no International Seminar of Doctoral Studies of Theatre Schools (Brno December 4 – 5 2009). O título da minha comunicação foi "Theatricality: a structure transversal to the domaisn of power". Abreijos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B3C4PODTmdo&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-1992598644731041748?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/1992598644731041748/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=1992598644731041748' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/1992598644731041748'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/1992598644731041748'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2010/03/entrevista-que-dei-na-rep-checa-brno.html' title='Entrevista que dei na Rep Checa (Brno)'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-9088973773946122698</id><published>2010-03-24T16:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-24T16:33:36.964-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The tragedy of New Portuguese/Old Portuguese Times</title><content type='html'>There was this human being; this person; colourless, raceless, sexless. Towards the ending of times and things was he. Mon pére, pourquoi tu m'a fait nâitre? Mére, oú est-tu?&lt;br /&gt;Ma soeur, mon amour, je t'ai perdue parce tu avais besoin de te faire rebeller.&lt;br /&gt;Ci sono. Solo. Guardo la luna. Niente arriva. Niente m'inspira di piú. Cosa é sucesso? Forse la vita. La vita ch'é bella prima di smorrire e diventare morbida. &lt;br /&gt;Te quiero cariño, por la calle te procuro y quiero besarte. Buenos dias, buena noche. M'encantas y mi haces llorar. Te quiero tanto, tanto, ti bacio la bocca morbida with my watered mouth and I believe tu est lá pour moi. Toujour pour moi. Je t'aime. Et maintenant, vien. Viva la mamma, sono stanco della vita. Adesso I swear, I heve no strength. No more energy, pour arriver à bon port. Oú est tu Genet? Oú est tu Sartre? où est tu Cocteau? Where the fuck are the great people who can think and consider thinking the most proeminent task the human being shall endure?&lt;br /&gt;Vamonos por la calle, a lo mejor un encuentro rapido, lleno de passión, llegará a nosotros.&lt;br /&gt;Mother, I am your son; Father, I am your daughter. Mother, I am your daughter; Father, I am your son.&lt;br /&gt;Long live the dead people perché sono más vivos que les vivants.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Besos querido blog. Espero que compreendas.&lt;br /&gt;"Era uma vez um país muito pequenino, cujos habitantes tinham mentalidades do tamanho das suas casinhas". Príncípio da peça de 1996 "Actuação do meio de transporte marítimo cheio de fumo e todo vermelho que se opõe à barca do paraíso". BS&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-9088973773946122698?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/9088973773946122698/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=9088973773946122698' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/9088973773946122698'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/9088973773946122698'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2010/03/tragedy-of-new-portugueseold-portuguese.html' title='The tragedy of New Portuguese/Old Portuguese Times'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-5149000602573426372</id><published>2009-12-25T15:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-25T15:38:05.739-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Feliz Natal</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzVMPPC8oJI/AAAAAAAAALk/vKcwsSBq3pQ/s1600-h/BOAS+FESTAS+2010.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzVMPPC8oJI/AAAAAAAAALk/vKcwsSBq3pQ/s320/BOAS+FESTAS+2010.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419321551230902418" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hoje entrei num café e estava ao balcão quando um homem com o ar de mendigo e com comportamento nervoso se dirigiu, resoluto, na minha direcção me abordou: O senhor pode-me pagar uma sandes? É Natal!&lt;br /&gt;Caíu-me tudo. Eu enjoado das comezainas da ceia e alguém que se delicia com uma sandes no Natal.&lt;br /&gt;Quer uma sandes de quê? -... Perguntei eu-&lt;br /&gt;Mista! - Respondeu sem pensar e com o ar de quem já tinha decidido o que queria para repasto.&lt;br /&gt;Pedi uma sandes mista e assentassem no meu "tikê". Perguntei: E não quer beber nada? &lt;br /&gt;Um galão! - respondeu com a mesma prontidão.&lt;br /&gt;Refiz o pedido. O homem olhou para mim e disse: Eu sabia!&lt;br /&gt;Só isso, não disse mais nada. O que me ficou foi a sensação de que ele sabia que eu não lhe ia negar a sandes. Por isso se dirigiu a mim mal entrou no café.&lt;br /&gt;Não me perguntem como é que ele sabia. Mas sabia. E isso fez-me chorar! Um Feliz Natal foi o que ele teve.&lt;br /&gt;Terminou a sandes e o galão e disse na voz forte e resoluta com que tinha falado sempre: Muito obrigado!&lt;br /&gt;Não sei quem ele é nem se o tornarei a ver de novo mas sei que me deu em troca algo mais grandioso. Percebi de novo o sentido do Natal!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-5149000602573426372?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/5149000602573426372/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=5149000602573426372' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/5149000602573426372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/5149000602573426372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2009/12/feliz-natal.html' title='Feliz Natal'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzVMPPC8oJI/AAAAAAAAALk/vKcwsSBq3pQ/s72-c/BOAS+FESTAS+2010.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-1418542599661399558</id><published>2009-12-22T12:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-22T12:31:08.043-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Julia, Meryl e Inquisição</title><content type='html'>&lt;h3 style="LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" /&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:placetype st="on"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;Querido blog, já cá não venho desde Julho como sabes. Je suis une vache lol. Bem, estou no meu segundo ano de doutoramento. Está a correr muito bem e estou muito contente. Estive no início de Dezembro em Brno, na Rep Chaca, a apresentar uma comunicação integrada numa conferência sobre estudos doutorais teatrais. O título da minha comunicação é: "Theatricality: a transversal structure to the domains of Power" e vai ser publicada na Rep Checa como a da FIRT vai ser publicada na Sinais de Cena :-)).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/st1:PlaceType&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;h3 style="LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:placetype st="on"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;Estou muito contente mas tenho andado muito ausente dos amigos e família porque isto do PHD consome muito tempo e energia. Não tenho feito coisas que adoro como, por exemplo, cozinhar. O meu forno avariou no Verão e nem sequer ainda o substitui. Tal é o "retiro" que tenho feito da cozinha. Mas vai passar em breve, se bem me conheço, porque hoje fui ver mais uma pérola da Meryl Streep que empresta o corpo e a voz (que trabalho sublime) a Julia Child. E ao ver aquelas personagens a cozinharem apeteceu-me logo vir para casa cozinhar. Tal como quando vi o ratatui lol. Mas não dá porque ainda não acabei de traduzir a comunicação para a entregar à minha supervisora.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/st1:PlaceType&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;h3 style="LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:placetype st="on"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;O filme vale bastante a pena e só dei por 3 erros de &lt;em&gt;racord &lt;/em&gt;mas são inócuos. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/st1:PlaceType&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;h3 style="LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:placetype st="on"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;Vão deliciar-se que deve estar a sair :-)).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/st1:PlaceType&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;h3 style="LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:placetype st="on"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;Para já aqui fica a minha comunicação.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/st1:PlaceType&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;h3 style="LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:placetype st="on"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;Diviram-se.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/st1:PlaceType&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;h3 style="LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:placetype st="on"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;Besos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/st1:PlaceType&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;h3 style="LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:placetype st="on"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/st1:PlaceType&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/h3&gt;&lt;h3 style="LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:placetype st="on"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/st1:PlaceType&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/h3&gt;&lt;h3 style="LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:placetype st="on"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;UNIVERSITY&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/st1:PlaceType&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt; OF &lt;st1:placename st="on"&gt;LISBON&lt;/st1:PlaceName&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;h3 style="LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;FACULTY OF LETTERS&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;h3 style="LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;ARTISTIC STUDIES&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;?xml:namespace prefix = v ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:vml" /&gt;&lt;v:shapetype id="_x0000_t75" stroked="f" filled="f" path="m@4@5l@4@11@9@11@9@5xe" preferrelative="t" spt="75" coordsize="21600,21600"&gt;&lt;v:stroke joinstyle="miter"&gt;&lt;/v:stroke&gt;&lt;v:formulas&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="if lineDrawn pixelLineWidth 0"&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="sum @0 1 0"&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="sum 0 0 @1"&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @2 1 2"&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelWidth"&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelHeight"&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="sum @0 0 1"&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @6 1 2"&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelWidth"&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="sum @8 21600 0"&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelHeight"&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="sum @10 21600 0"&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:formulas&gt;&lt;v:path connecttype="rect" gradientshapeok="t" extrusionok="f"&gt;&lt;/v:path&gt;&lt;o:lock aspectratio="t" ext="edit"&gt;&lt;/o:lock&gt;&lt;/v:shapetype&gt;&lt;v:shape style="WIDTH: 117.75pt; HEIGHT: 100.5pt" id="_x0000_i1025" type="#_x0000_t75"&gt;&lt;v:imagedata title="logoflul" src="file:///C:\Users\User\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtml1\01\clip_image001.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/v:imagedata&gt;&lt;/v:shape&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;THEATRICALITY: a transversal structure to the domains of power&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Paper to be read at the 4th International Seminar of Doctoral Studies of Theatre Schools in &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;Brno&lt;/st1:City&gt;, &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;Czech Republic&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;, 4th - 5th&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;December 2009&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 16pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;h3 style="TEXT-ALIGN: right; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 18pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Bruno Schiappa&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;2009&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;h3 style="LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:placetype st="on"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;UNIVERSITY&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/st1:PlaceType&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt; OF &lt;st1:placename st="on"&gt;LISBON&lt;/st1:PlaceName&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;h3 style="LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;FACULTY OF LETTERS&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;h3 style="LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;ARTISTIC STUDIES&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;v:shape style="WIDTH: 117.75pt; HEIGHT: 100.5pt" id="_x0000_i1026" type="#_x0000_t75"&gt;&lt;v:imagedata title="logoflul" src="file:///C:\Users\User\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtml1\01\clip_image001.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/v:imagedata&gt;&lt;/v:shape&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;THEATRICALITY: a transversal structure to the domains of power&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Paper to be read at the 4th International Seminar of Doctoral Studies of Theatre Schools in &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;Brno&lt;/st1:City&gt;, &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;Czech Republic&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;, 4th - 5th&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;December 2009&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 16pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;h3 style="TEXT-ALIGN: right; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Bruno Schiappa&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: right; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;PHD program &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: right; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="right"&gt;&lt;b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;in Artistic Studies&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: right; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="right"&gt;&lt;b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Specialty: Theatrical Studies&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;2009&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; TEXT-INDENT: 35.4pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 16pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; TEXT-INDENT: 35.4pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 16pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; TEXT-INDENT: 35.4pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 16pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; TEXT-INDENT: 35.4pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 16pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; TEXT-INDENT: 35.4pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;1 – Introduction ------------------------------------------------- 4&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; TEXT-INDENT: 35.4pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;2 – Theatricality, Theatre and Spectacle -------------------- 5&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt 35.4pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;3 – Some examples of Theatricality used by the Power - 10&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt 35.4pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;4 – The &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;Auto-de-Fe --------------------------------------------&lt;/i&gt; 13&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt 35.4pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;5 – My doctoral research and the state of it ---------------- 15&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt 35.4pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;6 – A few considerations in manner of conclusion -------- 17&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt 35.4pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;7 – Images&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;-------------------------------------------------------19&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; TEXT-INDENT: 35.4pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;8 – Images credits -----------------------------------------------31&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt 35.4pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;9 – Bibliography ------------------------------------------------ 32&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt 35.4pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt 35.4pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt 35.4pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt 35.4pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt 35.4pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt 35.4pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; TEXT-INDENT: 35.4pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 16pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; TEXT-INDENT: 35.4pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 16pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; TEXT-INDENT: 35.4pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 16pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; TEXT-INDENT: 35.4pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 16pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Theatricality: a structure transversal to the domains of Power&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; TEXT-INDENT: 35.4pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; TEXT-INDENT: 35.4pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Introduction&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; TEXT-INDENT: 35.4pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; TEXT-INDENT: 35.4pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Theatricality is a concept that is not very clear for most of the scholars who are dealing with Theatrology&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1" title="" href="http://www.blogger.com/post-create.g?blogID=8200455#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1"&gt;&lt;span class="MsoFootnoteReference"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-special-character: footnote"&gt;&lt;span class="MsoFootnoteReference"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman'; FONT-SIZE: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-language: PT; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#0000ff;"&gt;[1]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;. In spite of being apparently a simple noun derived from the adjective &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;theatrical &lt;/i&gt;it is, indeed, complex in itself. In the realm of common sense &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;theatricality &lt;/i&gt;is used to refer to something that is either &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;fake like&lt;/i&gt; or exaggerated. Something that is created to provoke some sort of effect.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; TEXT-INDENT: 35.4pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Some directors who created methods for the actor’s training (e.g. Stanislavsky or Lee Strasberg) used it to refer to the actors who were being caricatural or distant from what was considered “natural” or “authentic”. Therefore, in this context, it had a pejorative meaning. Other directors (e.g. Meyerhold) used it to refer to what was artistically built on stage and would be taken as symbols. In this context, theatricality had a positive value.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; TEXT-INDENT: 35.4pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Besides the suffix &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;ity&lt;/i&gt; and the fact that we can use the term both in theatre and in other fields apart from theatre situations, which means that Theatricality is a structure of meaning in itself, this same structure has always been used by the Power in order to impose a certain kind of behaviour on the individual and on society at large. It’s not new that some scholars and philosophers already referred that there was always something “spectacular” in the ceremonies and rituals (e.g. Michel Foucault) but I believe that its format was broadened to the realm of secular power.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoBodyTextIndent2"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; TEXT-INDENT: 35.4pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;2 – Theatricality, Theatre and Spectacle&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="mso-footnote-id: ftn2" title="" href="http://www.blogger.com/post-create.g?blogID=8200455#_ftn2" name="_ftnref2"&gt;&lt;span class="MsoFootnoteReference"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-special-character: footnote"&gt;&lt;span class="MsoFootnoteReference"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman'; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-language: PT; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#0000ff;"&gt;[2]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoBodyTextIndent2"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;The notion of &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;theatricality &lt;/i&gt;had several dimensions according to the contexts in which it was used. In his work &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;The Apology of Theatricality&lt;/i&gt;, wrote in 1908, Nicolai Evreinov (Russian playwright and director – 1879/1953) affirms that there is a theatrical instinct inherent to Man, referring to his capacity to play and imitate:&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 56.2pt 0pt 36pt" class="MsoBodyTextIndent2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;“Man has an inexhaustible instinct of vitality (…). I am referring to the instinct of transfiguration, the instinct of opposing the images received from the outside, the images created randomly in the inside: the instinct to transmutate the appearances offered by nature in something different. In short, an instinct which essence is revealed in what I would call theatricality”.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt; (EVREINOV: p. 35. M.T.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; TEXT-INDENT: 0cm; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoBodyTextIndent2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count: 1"&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;Marcel Jousse, an anthropologist orientated to the comprehension of the &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;pre-logical&lt;/i&gt; universe of the human mind deriving from the cultural &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;phenoma,&lt;/i&gt; considers the &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;mimesis&lt;/i&gt; a fundamental role to any pedagogy and affirms in 1969 that “it is not the gesture that underlines the thought but the gesture that brings out the thought” (JAUSSE: p. 37. M. T.).&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoBodyTextIndent2"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;The sociologist Erving Goffman, in his study &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;The presentation of the self in everyday life&lt;/i&gt; refers to the social roles and the representative functions operating in today’s rather complex societies. His main focus on the professional relations makes clear to us the subtle and essential sense of representation in our daily work as a professional performance. According to his study, those behaviours of the daily life embody the theatricality and dramatization inherent to the social life in itself. He concludes that:&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 56.2pt 0pt 36pt" class="MsoBodyTextIndent2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;“The political and dramaturgical perspectives intersect clearly in regard to the capacities of one individual to direct the activity of another. For one thing, if an individual is to direct others, he will often find it useful to keep strategic secrets from them. Further, if one individual attempts to direct the activity of others by means of example, enlightenment, persuasion, exchange, manipulation, authority, threat, punishment, or coercion, it will be necessary, regardless of his power position, to convey effectively what he wants done, what he is prepared to do to get it done and what he will do if it is not done. Power of any kind must be clothed in effective means of displaying it, and will have different effects depending upon how it is dramatized.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt; (GOFFMAN: p. 241)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 2.2pt 0pt 0cm" class="MsoBodyTextIndent2"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;As we can see &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;theatricality&lt;/i&gt; is a concept that includes not only the play, the representation and, therefore, artifice or artefact but, also, and most important of all, it carries a value of exchange; an exchange of considerations and an exchange of “views” of the world. Our formation – the formation of the citizen that we are or of our &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;personae &lt;/i&gt;– depends on the assimilation of models, patterns, examples, norms. Nevertheless, as a general rule, it is easier for us to behave in a certain way according to the demands of the situation. We “show” what is expected from us.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The sense of opportunity, more or less spontaneously, activates this human ability of “getting into somebody else’s skin”.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 2.2pt 0pt 0cm" class="MsoBodyTextIndent2"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Calderon de la Barca wrote &lt;em&gt;The Great Theatre of the World &lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: normal; mso-bidi-font-style: italic"&gt;and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Shakespeare defined the world as “a stage”. They both referred to the same thing: the artificiality of the norms/rules and to the use of the right strategy to “gain” something, to seduce, to repress, to restrain or, simply, to impress. The aim was always the same: to dominate through appearance. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoBodyTextIndent2"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Besides these considerations and, continuing my argument on the issue of &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;theatricality&lt;/i&gt; I became aware that, just like infantilism means what participates of or is related to infants or infancy without being necessarily confined to the time and space of infancy – i.e., we say that a certain attitude or reaction was infantile (or childish) even though (and above all if) the person who had that behaviour is already an adult – also theatricality is not subjected to the time and space of theatre. It is surely a signal of artificiality but it may occur out of the Theatre or, at least, of what is received as Theatre.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoBodyTextIndent2"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Consequently, I’ll use the concept of &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;theatricality&lt;/i&gt; more in the sense given to it by Patrice Pavis:&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 56.2pt 0pt 36pt" class="MsoBodyTextIndent2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;“it is the theatre without the text; it is a mixture of signs and sensations which are built in the scene starting from the script; it is that kind of ecumenical perception of the sensory artifices, gestures, tones, distances; substances, lights which submerge the text under the plenitude of its external language”. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;(PAVIS: p. 358. M. T.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoBodyTextIndent2"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;The fusion of this definition with the notion that most people have of the theatrical or of the theatre, results in the hybrid which seems to me to be fair enough to consider &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;Theatricality&lt;/i&gt; both a concept and a structure. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoBodyTextIndent2"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;It is a structure because it is a complex system of interrelated parts: a script, music, text, sounds, lights, choreography, wardrobe, voice, gestures, props, set. But the way they relate can change according to the times and spaces of the production. This brings us to consider another concept that integrates &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;theatricality&lt;/i&gt; but is not always related to theatre although theatre is related to it: spectacle.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoBodyTextIndent2"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;In general, &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold"&gt;spectacle&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt; refers to an event that is memorable for the image it creates; a specially prepared or arranged display; something to be shown and watched. According to some historians, the term was borrowed from the Roman practice of staging &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Circus" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Circus"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Circuses&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;, in the rather famous philosophy of the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Rome" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rome"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Roman&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; elite of "Bread and Circuses" to maintain civil order due to an inability to solve underlying social and economic problems.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoBodyTextIndent2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;Spectacle&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt; used to be a notion related to Theatre and operating in the &lt;a title="High culture" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/High_culture"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;high culture&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; performances as in the &lt;a title="Low culture" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Low_culture"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;low cultural shows&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;. Since 1967, nevertheless, its meaning was broadened when Guy Debord published his work &lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold"&gt;The Society of the Spectacle&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;. The concept of a &lt;i&gt;Society of the Spectacle&lt;/i&gt; may refer in a narrow sense to the people who appear in television, particularly the &lt;a title="Presenter" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Presenter"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;hosts&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; of &lt;a title="Television show" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Television_show"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;television shows&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a title="News broadcasting" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/News_broadcasting"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;news&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;reels. A broader meaning refers to all the people living in a society, and whose behavior and lives are heavily conditioned by the behavior of TV presenters. The impact of the medium of television, labelled by &lt;a title="Marshall McLuhan" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marshall_McLuhan"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;Marshall McLuhan&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; as the &lt;i&gt;timid giant&lt;/i&gt;, is such that even the small minority of people that don't watch it at all, are indirectly influenced by their relationship with those who do. Historically in the capitalist societies, television outlets have not been public places where talented and skilled individuals can make a career and express their ideas without censorship. Instead, they have been owned by powerful corporations or controlled by directors appointed by political officials. The flow of ideas that go through a society come from, or are “sweetened” by, the television. This is in fact a totalitarian control of the &lt;a title="Public discourse (page does not exist)" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Public_discourse&amp;amp;action=edit&amp;amp;redlink=1"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;public discourse&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, resulting in the contamination of ideas, tastes, behaviors, life styles, and political choices. The images that are produced form an actual social relation bound to influence people at large. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoBodyTextIndent2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold" lang="EN-GB"&gt;The Society of the Spectacle&lt;b&gt; &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;refers to the social relation mediated by the images that are &lt;a title="Mass produced" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mass_produced"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;produced&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; by &lt;a title="Television" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Television"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;television&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a title="Newspaper" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Newspaper"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;printed news&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;. People watch television as an escape from life, but they also rely on it for news, life lessons, and examples of the norms of values of society. The main &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;&lt;a title="Situationist International" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Situationist_International"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;situationist&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt; critique is that the spectacle, because it is produced for profit and for political purposes, is a corruptive force and is certainly not art, which should be an actual expression of emotion, an existential release of higher value, which offers greater and better forms of relationship, at the same time that it creates situations of charity and altruism, and is, for that matter, of a more direct value. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoBodyTextIndent2"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;With a point of view that we could label as Marxist, Debord defines spectacle as an event that:&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 56.2pt 0pt 36pt" class="MsoBodyTextIndent2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;“…presents itself at the same time as the society itself, as a part of the society, and as an &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;instrument&lt;/i&gt; &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;of unification. &lt;/i&gt;(…) The spectacle is not a group of images but a social relation between people transmitted by images. (…) We cannot oppose in an abstract way the spectacle and the effective social activity. (…) Reality shows up in the spectacle and the spectacle is real”. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;(DEBORD: pp. 10-12. M.T.)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoBodyTextIndent2"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;My understanding of Debord’s considerations about TV as the most prominent &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;spectacle&lt;/i&gt; is because it vehicles mass spectacles like football games and political manifestations, but Helga Finter, in her text about theatricality and theatre, gives us the examples of the destruction of the World Trade Center (11/09/2001) and the invasion of the theater, in Moscow, by terrorists as spectacles of the real. She concludes her text by saying that:&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; TEXT-INDENT: -0.6pt; MARGIN: 0cm 56.2pt 0pt 36pt" class="MsoBodyTextIndent2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;“There is (…) a difference between spectacle and theatre or performance. The spectacle is given as “nature”, as “reality” and, at the same time, becomes unreal as an image susceptible of repeating itself to the infinite. Spectacle is not conscientious of its theatricality; theatre, on the other hand, proceeds from it conscientiously by its constitutive symbolic pact of the “as if”. It creates a dialogue with what is absent from the image, a dialectic relation between presence and absence.” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;(FINTER: p.7)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoBodyTextIndent2"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;These are the prerequisites which led me to infer that Theatricality is both a concept and a concrete structure that is used both in theatre and in theatrical events but also in manifestations of Power created to restore the order and to impose social behaviours and conventions. Those manifestations were/are produced for a certain effect and included the elements that form the structure of theatricality which I referred before.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoBodyTextIndent2"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt 35.4pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;3 – Some examples of Theatricality used by the Power&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count: 1"&gt;         &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;Several studies by renowned anthropologists demonstrated already how deeply Rituals are related to theatricality. Across the History of Societies, Rituals have played a very important role as far as the organization of communities is concerned.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count: 1"&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;According to Victor Turner, Elizabeth Tolbert and, more recently, James MacLynn Wilce, Man started ritualizing even before he started talking. We already referred Jousse’s premise that “it is not the gesture that underlines the thought but the gesture that brings out the thought” (p. 5&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt; of this work). &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; TEXT-INDENT: 35.4pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Ritual can be defined as a set of actions, performed mainly for their &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Symbol" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Symbol"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;symbolic&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; value, which is prescribed by a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Religion" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Religion"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;religion&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; or by the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Tradition" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tradition"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;traditions&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; of a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Community" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Community"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;community&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;. The term usually excludes actions which are arbitrarily chosen by the performers, or dictated purely by logic, chance, necessity, etc. We can also say that a ritual may be performed on specific occasions, or at the discretion of individuals or communities. It may be performed by a single individual, by a group, or by the entire community; in arbitrary places, or in places especially reserved for it; either in public, in private, or before specific people. A ritual may be restricted to a certain subset of the community, and may enable or underscore the passage between religious or social states.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; TEXT-INDENT: 35.4pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Due to their symbolic nature, there are hardly any limits to the kind of actions that may be incorporated into a ritual. The rites of past and present societies have typically involved special gestures and words, recitation of fixed texts, performance of special &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Music" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Music"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;music&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Singing" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Singing"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;songs&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; or &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Dance" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dance"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;dances&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;, processions, manipulation of certain objects, use of special dresses, consumption of special &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Food" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Food"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;food&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Drink" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Drink"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;drink&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;, or &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Psychoactive drug" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Psychoactive_drug"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;drugs&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;, among other possibilities. Religious rituals have also included &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Animal sacrifice" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Animal_sacrifice"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;animal sacrifice&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Human sacrifice" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Human_sacrifice"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;human sacrifice&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Ritual suicide" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ritual_suicide"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;ritual suicide&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;, and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Ritual murder" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ritual_murder"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;ritual murder&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; TEXT-INDENT: 35.4pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;In &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Religion" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Religion"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;religion&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;, a ritual can comprise the prescribed outward forms of performing &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Cult (religion)" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cult_(religion)"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;cult&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;, of a particular observation within a religion or &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Religious denomination" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Religious_denomination"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;religious denomination&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;. Although ritual is often used in a given context, related to worship performed in a church, the actual relationship between any religion's doctrine and its ritual(s) can vary from organized religion to non-institutionalized spirituality. As a social tool, alongside the personal dimensions of worship and reverence, rituals can have a more basic &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Sociology" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sociology"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;social&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; function in expressing, fixing and reinforcing the shared values and beliefs of a society. Social rituals have formed a part of human &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Culture" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Culture"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;culture&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;. The earliest known undisputed evidence of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Burial" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Burial"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;burial&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; rituals dates from the Palaeolithic period. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; TEXT-INDENT: 35.4pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Rituals also help creating a firm sense of group identity. Humans have used rituals to create social bonds and even to nourish interpersonal relationships (cfr. GOFFMAN).&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; TEXT-INDENT: 35.4pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Anthropologists from &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Emile Durkheim" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emile_Durkheim"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Emile Durkheim&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; through Turner and contemporary theorists like Michael Silverstein treat ritual as a social action aimed at particular transformations often conceived in cosmic terms. Though the transformations can also be thought of as personal, they become a sort of cosmic event, stretching into "eternity".&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; TEXT-INDENT: 35.4pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;In general, the moments in which Power uses rituals - and therefore theatricality -, include not only the various &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Worship" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Worship"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;worship&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; rites and sacraments of organized religions and cults, but also the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Rite of passage" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rite_of_passage"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;rites of passage&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; of certain societies, atonement and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Ritual purification" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ritual_purification"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;purification rites&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Coronation" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coronation"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;coronations&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; and presidential inaugurations, political campaigns, etc. Many activities that are ostensibly performed for concrete purposes, such as &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Jury trial" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jury_trial"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;jury trials&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Death penalty" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Death_penalty"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;execution&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; of criminals, and scientific &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Symposium" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Symposium"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;symposia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;, are loaded with purely symbolic actions prescribed by regulations or tradition, and thus partly ritualistic in nature which is the same as saying partly “soaked” in theatricality. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; TEXT-INDENT: 35.4pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Concrete examples of the use of theatricality by the secular Power are: the Roman Circuses, where criminals were put together with lions and/or gladiators. Those were spectacles where the seats were set in a hierarchical order, taking place at certain hours and days and where Power would “show” the punishment that those who were “out of the rules” would suffer.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;Auto de Fe &lt;/i&gt;(literally “act of faith”)&lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt; &lt;/i&gt;was the ritual of public &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Penance" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Penance"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;penance&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; of condemned &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Heresy" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heresy"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;heretics&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Apostate" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Apostate"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;apostates&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; that took place when the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Spanish Inquisition" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spanish_Inquisition"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Inquisition&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; had decided their punishment (that is, after the trial). I shall elaborate on this particular case of theatricality in the next chapter. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; TEXT-INDENT: 35.4pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;In another sense of showing force and order, all the parades used by totalitarian regimes (i.e. dictatorships) have been intended to vehicle a certain “image” of order and discipline. For instance, the fascist parades which would present concrete images of the “new man” and virility:&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; TEXT-INDENT: 35.4pt; MARGIN: 0cm 56.2pt 0pt 36pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;“If fascism worked, fundamentally, with a pre-existent esthetic, it had to innovate in the form it presented itself. The fascist liturgy institutionalized a narrow bond between esthetic and policy, surpassing largely the isolated examples from the past, (…). It used the esthetic of the body, of the color and form to nationalize the masses, forming and controlling the popular rallies which were an essential part of the fascist policy. We already referred the esthetic of the human body, supposing that the young men (and even the not so young ones) who marched and saluted were the ideal representatives of the movement and of the nation. The &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;mise en scéne&lt;/i&gt; of those meetings, the set that was built or the one that was chosen for its accomplishment, represented a spectacle charged of grandeur&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;and beauty, allowing the reunited and disciplined masses, through its dynamic and virile movements, to symbolize again the order and progress as well its reconciliation.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt; (MOSSE: pp. 10, 11)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; TEXT-INDENT: 35.4pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;As we can see, the relationship between Power and Theatricality has always been (and still is) very strong and I would risk saying that it has always been essential for the Power to achieve whatever goal it wanted to achieve.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; TEXT-INDENT: 35.4pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt 35.4pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;4 – The &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;Auto-de-Fe &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count: 1"&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;In the previous chapter I already used a few lines to refer to the Auto de Fe as an example of the use of theatricality by the Power. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count: 1"&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;This is the real subject that I am studying for my doctoral thesis, therefore I will try to be more specific about it before speaking about the state of my research. &lt;i&gt;Auto de fé&lt;/i&gt; in medieval Spanish (and in Portuguese) means "act of faith". In the popular imagination, it has come to refer to be burned &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Execution by burning" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Execution_by_burning"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;at the stake&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; for heresy but the &lt;i&gt;auto de fe&lt;/i&gt; involved a Catholic &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Mass (liturgy)" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mass_(liturgy)"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Mass&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;; prayers; a public procession of those found guilty; and a public reading of their sentences. The ritual took place in public squares or esplanades and lasted several hours with ecclesiastical and civil authorities in attendance. Artistic representations of the &lt;i&gt;auto de fe&lt;/i&gt; usually depict &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Torture" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Torture"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;torture&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; and the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Execution by burning" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Execution_by_burning"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;burning at the stake&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;. But, neither torture nor burning at the stake took place during an &lt;i&gt;auto de fe&lt;/i&gt;, which was a religious ritual. Torture was not administered after a trial was concluded. Executions were always held after and separately from the &lt;i&gt;auto de fe&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count: 1"&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Portuguese Historian, Francisco Bettencourt, refers to this ceremony as a &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;mise en scéne&lt;/i&gt; and says:&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 56.2pt 0pt 36pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count: 1"&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;“Auto-da-fe means literally &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;act of faith&lt;/i&gt;, which at the time corresponds to a moral effect and (theatrical) representation of faith. This &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;representation, &lt;/i&gt;which we can now situate among the group of manifestations of the religious theatre in the Iberian Peninsula – &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;v. g. &lt;/i&gt;the &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;Autos Sacramentales&lt;/i&gt;, the acts of passion or the live pictures of bible scenes included in the processions of the &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;Corpus Christi&lt;/i&gt; –, has the particularity of being produced with real accused, who surely know their parts but who are not actors in the literal sense of the term and do not rehearse: the spectacle is definitive and unique for them. The only permanent “actors” representing in the autos-de-fe are the Inquisitors themselves, who accumulate this role with that of the directors. It is above all a public &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;presentation&lt;/i&gt; of the abjuration, of reconciliation and punishment which follow the precise rules that result from the Hispanic Inquisitions common model, with an evident theatrical dimension, made concrete on stage, scenography and in the distribution of the parts.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt; (BETTENCOURT: p. 201)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 2.2pt 0pt 0cm" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count: 1"&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;The Auto de Fe would start with a sermon during which the heresies were pointed out and condemned while catholic faith was exalted. A reading of the sentences would follow by decreasing order of gravity without the knowledge of the accused or any chance of defending themselves.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count: 1"&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Early in the morning, the prisoners were brought to a large yard and dressed up with the habits for the procession (the sambenitos). In the procession they were led by Dominican friars carrying the Inquisition’s flag followed by the penitents in general, all of them dressed with long black robes with no sleeves, barefoot and carrying a candle. After them were the penitents who had barely escaped from death with flames painted upside down on their black vests, symbolizing that they had been saved but only from the fire. These were followed by the relapses whose destiny was to be burned at the stake; in this case the flames were painted pointing up. In the end were the heresiarchs who, besides the flames had their own bust painted surrounded by dogs, serpents and demons, all with their mouth open. This would make evident both the character of symbolic act and public spectacle of the auto de fe.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count: 1"&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;The prisoners who were going to be burned were kept company by a &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;familiar&lt;/i&gt; – a member of the Inquisition – and by a Jesuit who would ask them to abjure their heresies. Only the heretic who would not confess the error he was accused of would suffer the highest penalty: to be burned at the stake. Confession could free them from this penalty but not from others of diverse nature. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count: 1"&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;About this entire spectacle Isabel Drumond Braga says that:&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; MARGIN: 0cm 56.2pt 0pt 36pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; FONT-SIZE: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count: 1"&gt;               &lt;/span&gt;“The apparatus and the exuberance of the autos, the theatricality of all the acts and the intrinsic connection between the autos de fe and the relaxations to the secular hand, even though the actions of burning at the stake took place in different spaces and in posterior moments, made this ceremony one of the most marked images of the institution. The auto de fe, a religious feast and, above all, a theatrical representation of the faith, became, in last instance, the major rite of the Inquisition”. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;(DRUMOND BRAGA, p.185)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; MARGIN: 0cm 56.2pt 0pt 36pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; FONT-FAMILY: Verdana; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; TEXT-INDENT: 35.4pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;The first recorded &lt;i&gt;auto de fe&lt;/i&gt; was held in &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;Paris&lt;/st1:City&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; in 1242, under &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Louis IX of France" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Louis_IX_of_France"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Louis IX&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;. The first Spanish &lt;i&gt;auto de fe&lt;/i&gt; took place in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Seville" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seville"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Seville&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Spain" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spain"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Spain&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;, in 1481. The first Portuguese Auto de Fe took place in 1540. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; TEXT-INDENT: 35.4pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;The Portuguese Inquisition was established in 1536 and lasted officially until 1821. Its influence was much weakened by the late 1700s under the government of the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Sebastião José de Carvalho e Melo, Marquis of Pombal" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sebasti%C3%A3o_Jos%C3%A9_de_Carvalho_e_Melo,_Marquis_of_Pombal"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Marquis of Pombal&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; but returned strengthened with Queen Mary I. &lt;i&gt;Autos de fe&lt;/i&gt; also took place in &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;Mexico&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;, &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;Brazil&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; and &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;Peru&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;. Contemporary historians, such as &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Bernal Díaz del Castillo" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bernal_D%C3%ADaz_del_Castillo"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Bernal Díaz del Castillo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;, recorded them. They were also held in the Portuguese colony of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Goa" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Goa"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Goa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="India" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/India"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;India&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;, following the establishment of the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Goa Inquisition" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Goa_Inquisition"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Inquisition&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; there in 1562-1563.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; TEXT-INDENT: 35.4pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt 35.4pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;5 – My doctoral research and the state of it&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count: 1"&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;As seen previously, my doctoral research is about the relationship between Theatricality and Society/Power. I have chosen the Auto de Fe as a specific case because it’s one of the ceremonies that are less studied in &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;Portugal&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; as far as its relation with theatricality and spectacle is concerned. I am inclined to consider that besides all the apparatus that it included, the Inquisitors were also aware that it would work as a sort of &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;catharsis&lt;/i&gt; for the audience. I still don’t have enough elements to infer that, but by reading Roger Graínger’s &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;The Drama of the Rite: Worship, Liturgy and Theatre Performance&lt;/i&gt;, it is getting more and more clear to me that there was that element of “purging” the audience during the proclamation of the condemned. Otherwise they would not include chants like de &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;te deum laudamus &lt;/i&gt;or&lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt; &lt;/i&gt;the &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;veni creator spiritus&lt;/i&gt;, both hymns praising God.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count: 1"&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Previously I devoted my time to the complementation of the credits which are obligatory by the Bologna process; I read and noted several historical and theoretical texts which are related to my work selecting and defining concepts of major interest for my research; I studied several images and documents related to Autos de Fe in the&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Portuguese National Archive of the Torre do Tombo and in the Portuguese National Library selecting the most pertinent ones for my project; I defined and deepened the concepts of theatricality, spectacle and representation as well as Victor Turner’s concept of liminality, Erika Fisher-Lichte’s concepts of phenomenal body and semiotic body, Friedrich Schiller’s concepts of formal impulse, material impulse and playful impulse;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I wrote an abstract and a critical analysis on the text &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;The Performance of Culture: Anthropological and Ethnographic Approaches, &lt;/i&gt;by Marvin Carlson (which was presented during the seminar on Documentation oriented by Professor Maria Helena Serôdio) dedicated to the issue of &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;performance&lt;/i&gt; and how it operates on the individual level; I also wrote the study &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;No Women in the Theatre&lt;/i&gt; (Queen Mary I and the prohibition of women both on stage and among the audience), a paper read in the framework of the 52&lt;sup&gt;nd&lt;/sup&gt; Conference of the IFTR– July 2009 – that focused on Theatre and Censorship (the title being “Silent Voices, Forbidden Lives”). That paper is about to be published in the Portuguese theatre journal &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;Sinais de cena&lt;/i&gt;, its issue number 12, which is due to be released in December. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count: 1"&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;I am now working on the issue of &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;performance/transversality/liminality&lt;/i&gt; confronting the works of Nietzsche, Turner, Fisher-Lichte and Goffman. In articulation with this issue I am developing a group of fundamental figures for “tremor and terror” (Kierkgaard) in the “spectacles of public execution” (Foucault).&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count: 1"&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Due to the scarcity of documents in &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;Portugal&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; on the actions of the Inquisition during the second half of the 18&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt; century, I asked the Vaticano a permission to do a research in the Secret Archives, which was granted, and I will be there during the whole month of March 2010. This research is based on the fact that it was from &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;Rome&lt;/st1:City&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; that the control, alteration and regulation of the Auto de Fe would come.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count: 1"&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;After that, I will revise all the documents with a directional reading which will focus mainly on the relationships among citizens, the social space of the victims or condemned and the identification of the elements that led to the construction of the religious identity. Those aspects will serve as a parameter for the appreciation of the theatrical moments and their public effectiveness. My last action will be to cross theory and analysis of the documents through the elaboration of a critical text that will include all the information that I have found out and assembled. The interpretation of the data&lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt; &lt;/i&gt;will constitute the basis for the final argument of my thesis. In parallel I will keep the bibliographic research in order to keep it updated which will allow me to include new acknowledgements if necessary. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; TEXT-INDENT: 35.45pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Most of my actual conclusions and accomplished steps were already included in the previous chapters of this paper.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; TEXT-INDENT: 35.4pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt 35.4pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt 35.4pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;6 – A few considerations in manner of conclusion&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count: 1"&gt;         &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;Theatricality is a structure that is present in most of the human actions and operates in terms of consequence. Almost everything we do either in group or isolated is supposed to have a determined effect or result. It means that we always think in terms of what is going to be seen and whether or not it is going to be accepted. This “projected” spectator can become real (a concrete person or group of people) or invisible, i.e., divine (e.g. God). During the duration of the “performance”, i.e., between the moment it starts until the moment it ends, there is a period that Victor Turner called liminality or liminarity. This period comprehends the transformation – the spectator is not what he was before and is still not what he is going to be in the end (even if there is only a slight and subtle alteration). In the concrete case of the Auto de Fe it was during this period that I believe that something similar to the &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;catharsis &lt;/i&gt;would happen. The audience would fear for their souls and bodies because the possibility of being burned at the stake as the last and stronger penalty would horrify them. Even if they were “thirsty of blood” I believe they would be horrified or, at least, they would not be indifferent to the image of those condemned being burned (the fire would also symbolize Hell). But this last “show” was secular. It was not provided by the Church although it was due to the religious institution that it was carried out. The bonfire would just conclude what had already happened during the Auto de Fe (the proclamation of the convicted with hymns, chants and psalms). Theatricality had already taken place in the catholic ceremony and had a second and last act in the secular ceremony. The second “act” might not have included hymns or chants (I still lack that information) but it surely included the choreography of guards bringing the victim to the place of the bonfire, the cries of the people (whether encouraging or rebelling against the burning), the drums, the vocal effects of the announcement of the penalty having been accomplished. Theatricality, I am sure, was a structure transversal to the domains of both monastic and secular power in what concerns the Auto de Fe.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt 35.4pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;7 – Images &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;1.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;v:shape style="WIDTH: 380.25pt; HEIGHT: 624pt" id="_x0000_i1027" type="#_x0000_t75"&gt;&lt;v:imagedata title="society_of_the_spectacle" src="file:///C:\Users\User\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtml1\01\clip_image004.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/v:imagedata&gt;&lt;/v:shape&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;2.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;v:shape style="WIDTH: 424.5pt; HEIGHT: 501.75pt" id="_x0000_i1028" type="#_x0000_t75"&gt;&lt;v:imagedata title="wtc_20011" src="file:///C:\Users\User\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtml1\01\clip_image006.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/v:imagedata&gt;&lt;/v:shape&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;3.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;v:shape style="WIDTH: 422.25pt; HEIGHT: 318pt" id="_x0000_i1029" type="#_x0000_t75"&gt;&lt;v:imagedata title="moscow" src="file:///C:\Users\User\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtml1\01\clip_image008.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/v:imagedata&gt;&lt;/v:shape&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;4.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;v:shape style="WIDTH: 351pt; HEIGHT: 259.5pt" id="_x0000_i1030" type="#_x0000_t75"&gt;&lt;v:imagedata title="chechens" src="file:///C:\Users\User\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtml1\01\clip_image010.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/v:imagedata&gt;&lt;/v:shape&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;5.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;v:shape style="WIDTH: 476.25pt; HEIGHT: 358.5pt" id="_x0000_i1031" type="#_x0000_t75"&gt;&lt;v:imagedata title="ritual" src="file:///C:\Users\User\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtml1\01\clip_image011.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/v:imagedata&gt;&lt;/v:shape&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;6.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;v:shape style="WIDTH: 424.5pt; HEIGHT: 579pt" id="_x0000_i1032" type="#_x0000_t75"&gt;&lt;v:imagedata title="ritual_lg" src="file:///C:\Users\User\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtml1\01\clip_image012.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/v:imagedata&gt;&lt;/v:shape&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;7.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;v:shape style="WIDTH: 413.25pt; HEIGHT: 297.75pt" id="_x0000_i1033" type="#_x0000_t75"&gt;&lt;v:imagedata title="roman%20circus" src="file:///C:\Users\User\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtml1\01\clip_image013.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/v:imagedata&gt;&lt;/v:shape&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;8.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;v:shape style="WIDTH: 400.5pt; HEIGHT: 336pt" id="_x0000_i1034" type="#_x0000_t75"&gt;&lt;v:imagedata title="fascist parade" src="file:///C:\Users\User\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtml1\01\clip_image014.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/v:imagedata&gt;&lt;/v:shape&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;9.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;v:shape style="WIDTH: 468pt; HEIGHT: 427.5pt" id="_x0000_i1035" type="#_x0000_t75"&gt;&lt;v:imagedata title="800px-Francisco_Ricci_-_Auto_de_Fe_(1683)" src="file:///C:\Users\User\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtml1\01\clip_image016.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/v:imagedata&gt;&lt;/v:shape&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;10.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;v:shape style="WIDTH: 279.75pt; HEIGHT: 649.5pt" id="_x0000_i1036" type="#_x0000_t75"&gt;&lt;v:imagedata title="dominicjudge" src="file:///C:\Users\User\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtml1\01\clip_image018.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/v:imagedata&gt;&lt;/v:shape&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;11.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;v:shape style="WIDTH: 6in; HEIGHT: 525.75pt" id="_x0000_i1037" type="#_x0000_t75"&gt;&lt;v:imagedata title="Jews_stake" src="file:///C:\Users\User\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtml1\01\clip_image020.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/v:imagedata&gt;&lt;/v:shape&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;12. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;v:shape style="WIDTH: 424.5pt; HEIGHT: 422.25pt" id="_x0000_i1038" type="#_x0000_t75"&gt;&lt;v:imagedata title="inquisicao2sntoood" src="file:///C:\Users\User\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtml1\01\clip_image021.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/v:imagedata&gt;&lt;/v:shape&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;13. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;v:shape style="WIDTH: 424.5pt; HEIGHT: 430.5pt" id="_x0000_i1039" type="#_x0000_t75"&gt;&lt;v:imagedata title="auto1822" src="file:///C:\Users\User\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtml1\01\clip_image023.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/v:imagedata&gt;&lt;/v:shape&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; TEXT-INDENT: 35.4pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; TEXT-INDENT: 35.4pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; TEXT-INDENT: 35.4pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;8 – Images credits&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;1 – Cover of the first French Edition of “The Society of Spectacle”&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;2 – &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:placename st="on"&gt;World&lt;/st1:PlaceName&gt; &lt;st1:placename st="on"&gt;Trace&lt;/st1:PlaceName&gt; &lt;st1:placetype st="on"&gt;Center&lt;/st1:PlaceType&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; attacked 2001&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;3 – Moscow Theatre Siege 2004&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;4 – Chechens accused of the &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Moscow&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; theatre siege&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;5 – Pagan ritual &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;6 – Caddo Indian with antler headress dances in a ritual ceremony marking the death&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;of a special chief or leader in the tribe&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: FR" lang="FR"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;7 – Roman Circus&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: FR" lang="FR"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;8 –&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Fascist parade in Barcelona&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;9 – Auto de Fe in &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Spain&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;, 1683, by Frncisco Ricci&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;10 –&lt;span class="caption1"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman'; COLOR: windowtext; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-font-size: 11.0pt"&gt;St Dominic judging "heretics" who are about to be burned at the stake&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="caption1"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman'; COLOR: windowtext; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;12 – Inquisition in &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Portugal&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="caption1"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman'; COLOR: windowtext; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;13 – &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="recordtext"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman'; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;Representation of an AUTO DA FE, 1822&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;9 - &lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 200%; FONT-SIZE: 14pt"&gt;Bibliography:&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 6pt" class="MsoBodyTextIndent"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;BETTENCOURT, Francisco&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 6pt 35.15pt" class="MsoBodyTextIndent"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;1996: &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;História das Inquisições – Portugal, Espanha e Itália&lt;/i&gt;, Lisboa: Temas e&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Debates&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-SIZE: 10pt"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;BRAGA, Isabel M. R. Mendes Drumond, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt 35.4pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;2006, “Representação, Poder e Espectáculo: o Auto da Fé”,&lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt; Turres Veteras VIII. História das Festas, &lt;/i&gt;coordenação de Carlos Guardado da Silva, Lisboa, Torres Vedras, Edições Colibri, Câmara Municipal de Torres Vedras, Instituto Alexandre Herculano, pp. 177-185.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 6pt" class="MsoBodyTextIndent"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoFootnoteText"&gt;&lt;span style="LETTER-SPACING: 0.2pt; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;DEBORD, Guy&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoFootnoteText"&gt;&lt;span style="LETTER-SPACING: 0.2pt; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count: 1"&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;1991, &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;A Sociedade do Espectáculo, &lt;/i&gt;Lisboa: Mobilis in Mobile&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoFootnoteText"&gt;&lt;span style="LETTER-SPACING: 0.2pt; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoFootnoteText"&gt;&lt;span style="LETTER-SPACING: 0.2pt; FONT-SIZE: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: ES" lang="ES"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;EVREINOV, Nicolai&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoFootnoteText"&gt;&lt;span style="LETTER-SPACING: 0.2pt; FONT-SIZE: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: ES" lang="ES"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count: 1"&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;S/D, &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;El teatro y la vida, &lt;/i&gt;Buenos Aires: Leviatã&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoFootnoteText"&gt;&lt;span style="LETTER-SPACING: 0.2pt; FONT-SIZE: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: ES" lang="ES"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoFootnoteText"&gt;&lt;span style="LETTER-SPACING: 0.2pt; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;FINTER, Helga&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoFootnoteText"&gt;&lt;span style="LETTER-SPACING: 0.2pt; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count: 1"&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;2003, &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;A teatralidade e o teatro; espectáculo do real ou realidade do espectáculo? – Notas sobre a teatralidade e o teatro recente na Alemanha, &lt;/i&gt;in&lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt; &lt;/i&gt;Revista Teatro al Sur, n.º25, Argentina&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoFootnoteText"&gt;&lt;span style="LETTER-SPACING: 0.2pt; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoFootnoteText"&gt;&lt;span style="LETTER-SPACING: 0.2pt; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;FISHER-LICHTE, Erika&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoFootnoteText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="LETTER-SPACING: 0.2pt; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count: 1"&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="LETTER-SPACING: 0.2pt; FONT-SIZE: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;2005, &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;Theatre, Sacrifice, Ritual, Exploring Forms od Political Theatre, &lt;/i&gt;&lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;London&lt;/st1:City&gt; and &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:state st="on"&gt;New York&lt;/st1:State&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;: Routledge&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoFootnoteText"&gt;&lt;span style="LETTER-SPACING: 0.2pt; FONT-SIZE: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoFootnoteText"&gt;&lt;span style="LETTER-SPACING: 0.2pt; FONT-SIZE: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;GOFFMAN, Erving&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoFootnoteText"&gt;&lt;span style="LETTER-SPACING: 0.2pt; FONT-SIZE: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count: 1"&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;1959, &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life, &lt;/i&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:state st="on"&gt;New York&lt;/st1:State&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;: Doubleday Anchor Books Doubleday &amp;amp; Company, Inc.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoFootnoteText"&gt;&lt;span style="LETTER-SPACING: 0.2pt; FONT-SIZE: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoFootnoteText"&gt;&lt;span style="LETTER-SPACING: 0.2pt; FONT-SIZE: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;GRAÍNGER, Roger&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoFootnoteText"&gt;&lt;span style="LETTER-SPACING: 0.2pt; FONT-SIZE: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count: 1"&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;2009, &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;The Drama of the Rite, &lt;/i&gt;Eastbourne: &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;Sussex&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; Academic Press&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoFootnoteText"&gt;&lt;span style="LETTER-SPACING: 0.2pt; FONT-SIZE: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoFootnoteText"&gt;&lt;span style="LETTER-SPACING: 0.2pt; FONT-SIZE: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: FR" lang="FR"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;JOUSSE, Marcel&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoFootnoteText"&gt;&lt;span style="LETTER-SPACING: 0.2pt; FONT-SIZE: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: FR" lang="FR"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count: 1"&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;1969, &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;L’Anthropologie du geste, &lt;/i&gt;Paris: Resma&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoFootnoteText"&gt;&lt;span style="LETTER-SPACING: 0.2pt; FONT-SIZE: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: FR" lang="FR"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoFootnoteText"&gt;&lt;span style="LETTER-SPACING: 0.2pt; FONT-SIZE: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;MOSSE, George L.; BRAUN, Emily; BEN-GHIAT, Ruth&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoFootnoteText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="LETTER-SPACING: 0.2pt; FONT-SIZE: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count: 1"&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="LETTER-SPACING: 0.2pt; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"&gt;1999, &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;A Estética do Fascismo, &lt;/i&gt;Lisboa: Edições João Sá da Costa &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoFootnoteText"&gt;&lt;span style="LETTER-SPACING: 0.2pt; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoFootnoteText"&gt;&lt;span style="LETTER-SPACING: 0.2pt; FONT-SIZE: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: FR" lang="FR"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;PAVIS, Patrice &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt 35.4pt" class="MsoFootnoteText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-SIZE: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: FR; mso-bidi-font-style: italic" lang="FR"&gt;1996, &lt;i&gt;Dictionnaire du Théâtre, &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-SIZE: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: FR" lang="FR"&gt;préface de Anne Ubersfeld, Édition revue et corrigée, Paris: Dunod &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoFootnoteText"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-SIZE: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: FR" lang="FR"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoFootnoteText"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-SIZE: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;TURNER, Victor&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt 35.25pt" class="MsoFootnoteText"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-SIZE: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;1969, &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;The Ritual Process, Structure and Anti-Structure, &lt;/i&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:state st="on"&gt;New York&lt;/st1:State&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;: Aldine de Gruyter&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoFootnoteText"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-SIZE: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="mso-element: footnote-list"&gt;&lt;br clear="all"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;hr align="left" size="1" width="33%"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="mso-element: footnote" id="ftn1"&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoFootnoteText"&gt;&lt;a style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1" title="" href="http://www.blogger.com/post-create.g?blogID=8200455#_ftnref1" name="_ftn1"&gt;&lt;span class="MsoFootnoteReference"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-special-character: footnote"&gt;&lt;span class="MsoFootnoteReference"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman'; FONT-SIZE: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-ansi-language: PT; mso-fareast-language: PT; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#0000ff;"&gt;[1]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; We should not, however, forget the very important book edited by Traccy C. Davis and Thomas Postlewait, &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;Theatricality&lt;/i&gt;, in 2003 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press), where we can find illuminating articles by, among others, the Editors themselves and Shannon Jackson.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="mso-element: footnote" id="ftn2"&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoFootnoteText"&gt;&lt;a style="mso-footnote-id: ftn2" title="" href="http://www.blogger.com/post-create.g?blogID=8200455#_ftnref2" name="_ftn2"&gt;&lt;span class="MsoFootnoteReference"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-special-character: footnote"&gt;&lt;span class="MsoFootnoteReference"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman'; FONT-SIZE: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-ansi-language: PT; mso-fareast-language: PT; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#0000ff;"&gt;[2]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt; Just as a reminder, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN" lang="EN"&gt;the word Theatre derives from the &lt;a title="Ancient Greek" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ancient_Greek"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;Ancient Greek&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;i&gt;theatron&lt;/i&gt; (&lt;i&gt;θέατρον&lt;/i&gt;) meaning "the seeing place", while the word Spectacle drives itself a reflection of the &lt;a title="Latin" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Latin"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: windowtext; TEXT-DECORATION: none; text-underline: none"&gt;Latin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;i&gt;spectaculum&lt;/i&gt; "a show" from &lt;i&gt;spectare&lt;/i&gt; "to view, watch". As we all know, the Greek culture is centuries older than the Latin (Roman) one. Also, according to Helga Finter, from the place of the spectator&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt; (&lt;i&gt;theatron) &lt;/i&gt;derives the theatre and from its activity (&lt;i&gt;theaomai &lt;/i&gt;– to look simultaneously with the eyes and with the mind) came the terms theatre and theory. &lt;/span&gt;Cfr. &lt;span style="LETTER-SPACING: 0.2pt"&gt;Helga Finter, 2003, &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;A teatralidade e o teatro; espectáculo do real ou realidade do espectáculo? – Notas sobre a teatralidade e o teatro recente na Alemanha, &lt;/i&gt;in&lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt; &lt;/i&gt;Revista Teatro al Sur, n.º25, Argentina, p. 1. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="LETTER-SPACING: 0.2pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB" lang="EN-GB"&gt;I also would like to make clear that although Aristotle mentioned the existence of characters in the group of elements that compose Theatre, in no place he says that the absence of that element invalidates theatre. Of course a character can have traces other than the mask itself; it can be representative of the function of the person who is “acting”. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="LETTER-SPACING: 0.2pt"&gt;But that is another entire chapter for another study.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="Default"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-SIZE: 10pt"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoFootnoteText"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:85%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-1418542599661399558?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/1418542599661399558/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=1418542599661399558' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/1418542599661399558'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/1418542599661399558'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2009/12/julia-meryl-e-inquisicao.html' title='Julia, Meryl e Inquisição'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-8898657318914706074</id><published>2009-07-20T09:33:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-20T09:37:13.374-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Comunicação para FIRT/IFRT</title><content type='html'>Boas, a semana passada foi a conferência internacional anual da FIRT/IFRT, cujo tema geral era "Censorship and Performance". Segue a minha comunicação/paper.&lt;br /&gt;Besos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;UNIVERSITY OF LISBON&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FACULTY OF LETTERS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ARTISTIC STUDIES&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No Women in the Theatre:&lt;br /&gt;Paper to be read at the IFTR/2009&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bruno Schiappa&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PHD program&lt;br /&gt;in Artistic Studies&lt;br /&gt;Specialty: Theatrical Studies&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2009&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4 – Introduction&lt;br /&gt;5 – 1) Women gradually banned from Theatre&lt;br /&gt;7 – 2) The statements of foreigners regarding the Theatre in Portugal&lt;br /&gt;7 – 2.1) William Beckford&lt;br /&gt;7 – 2.2) Duc du Chateley&lt;br /&gt;8 – 2.3) Robert Southey&lt;br /&gt;9 – 3) Pina Manique and the banishment of Women both from the stage and from the Theatre buildings&lt;br /&gt;9 – 3.1) The case of Luisa Todi&lt;br /&gt;10 – 3.2) The Royal Theatre of São Carlos&lt;br /&gt;11 – 4) Prejudice Extension&lt;br /&gt;12 – Conclusion&lt;br /&gt;23 – Bibliography&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No Women in the Theatre&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Introduction&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No matter how skilled a man may be to perform the role of a woman, it will never be fully accomplished if the purpose is to recreate the most inner truth of a female emotional state and vice versa.&lt;br /&gt;Hence, if women are prevented from acting and only men play female roles, something will be missing in the performance since there is no true inner commitment as far as feelings are concerned. There might be some exceptions but one cannot count on that to make a rule.&lt;br /&gt;However, in the 18th century women were kept from showing themselves in Royal spectacles and public Theatres. In fact, during the reign of the Portuguese Queen Mary I (r. 1777 – 1816), they were simply banished not only from the stage but from the auditorium. &lt;br /&gt;            This circumstance not only provoked a delay in the development of the Theatre in Portugal (mainly in Lisbon) but it also restrained the development of the Portuguese society as far as the ideas of the Enlightenment are concerned.&lt;br /&gt;            The Enlightenment considered Theatre to be a “school of civilization” and a moderator of vices as well as a morality builder and to be so it should always be “vraisemblable” or truth-seeming.&lt;br /&gt;            Therefore, the atmosphere of the theatrical performances where only men played all the roles, which were considered ridiculous by several foreigners who visited Portugal at the time, could not be of much contribution for the achievement of such an elevated title that the rest of the Western World conferred to the Theatre.&lt;br /&gt;1 – Women gradually banned from Theatre&lt;br /&gt;         Already during the last years of the reign of the Portuguese King John V, when he became feverishly devoted to religion, women started to be cast away from the Royal stages. During the reign of King Joseph I, due to the deep jealousy of the Queen Mariana, they were not even allowed among the audience in the theatre performances at the Royal stages. In 1772 two foreigners, Twiss and Wraxall, wrote the following:&lt;br /&gt;Twiss: I went to the King’s palace, in Belém, the 17th November, where I saw the Italian opera Ezio. (…) women are not allowed to this show, except for the ones of the Royal House. They are also not admitted in the Theatre: castrati in women’s disguises take their place (…). But I was shocked by seeing the ballets during the intermissions, performed by men, whose black beards and large shoulders under women’s costumes do not inspire anything pleasant. This unusual habit is said to be caused by the Queen’s jealousy. (CARREIRA: p. 391)&lt;br /&gt;Wraxall: (…) A circumstance distinguished these representations of everything I had seen in other places; it may seem very extraordinary, therefore you’ll hardly believe it: women were completely excluded, not only from the room but also from the stage; thus, none could be neither spectator nor actress. (Ibidem).&lt;br /&gt; After the death of King Joseph I, women were banned from the Public stages. Laureano Carreira says that at this time, in Lisbon, women only had the chance to act in the private houses (CARREIRA: (p.398). With Queen Mary I those measures forbidding women on stages were so strict that “the proscription of female performers was a sine qua non without which a theatrical script could not be performed.” (ELEUTÉRIO: p. 278). It means that in order to get a license from the Real Mesa Censória for a script to be performed, the theatrical entrepreneurs had to declare that it would only be played by men.&lt;br /&gt;Queen Mary I claimed that this was imposed in order to keep the morality and good values.&lt;br /&gt;In a letter of 1779, Arthur William Costigan&lt;a style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1" title="" href="http://www.blogger.com/post-create.g?blogID=8200455#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1"&gt;[1]&lt;/a&gt; wrote:&lt;br /&gt;Dear brother:&lt;br /&gt;I promised that in one of my letters I would tell you about a theatre performance that we attended to. It was an authentic farce; in my point of view, it exceeded in ridiculous and grotesque everything rude that was ever produced in the Theatre. Nowadays there’s no public theatre because the pious Queen does not allow a public school of immorality; she would even less allow that women could show up on stage. Her opinion is that consenting women to expose themselves to audiences in that way would look like she was sponsoring the favorite vice of the country; since the main issue is to avoid scandal. It does confirm what I said some time ago, the same way that also agrees with the advise given in this country by old monks to the youth: si non caste tantum modo caute, if you can’t be a saint at least take care. According to these same reasons, Her Majesty, due to her absolute authority, can prevent women from performing in public: they, however, thank God that she is not empowered to keep them from performing in private. (CARREIRA: p 476. T. M.)&lt;br /&gt;Whether or not it was because of the above mentioned reasons or because of her deep jealousy, the fact is that only in 1800 women were officially back on stage as actresses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 –Assessments of foreigners regarding the Theatre in Portugal&lt;br /&gt;            Several travelers left their impressions about the theatrical life in Portugal during the 18th century. I have selected the statements of three travelers who visited Portugal between the years 1787 and 1797.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. 1 – William Beckford – (1760 – 1844)&lt;br /&gt;Was in Portugal in 1787/88 and again in 1794&lt;br /&gt;D. Pedro (…) entreated me to take them to the Salitri theatre, where a box had been prepared for us by his father’s orders. Upon the whole I was better entertained than I expected, though the performance lasted above four hours and a half, from seven to near twelve. It consisted of a ranting prose tragedy, in three acts, called Sesostris, two ballets, a pastoral, and a farce. The decorations were not amiss, and the dresses showy. A shambling, bear-eyed boy, bundled out in weeds of the deepest sable, squeaked and bellowed alternately the part of a widowed princess. Another hob-e-di-hoy, tottering on high-heeled shoes, represented her Egyptian majesty, and warbled two airs with all the nauseous sweetness of a fluted falsetto. Though I could have boxed his ears for surfeiting mine so filthly, the audience were of a different opinion, and were quite enthusiastic in their applause. (BECKFORD: pp.239, 240)&lt;br /&gt;2. 2 – Duc du Chatelet – (1727 – 1793)&lt;br /&gt; Was in Portugal in uncertain year and his statements were published in 1799&lt;br /&gt;To emphasize the disgust inspired by their dramatic representations, a false idea of decency completely swept women away from stage and one has to accept to see men who bear beards playing the roles of queens, princesses and lovely ladies. The beautiful sex is excluded even from the ballets. The repertory of its actors is mainly based on the best plays translated from the French, Italian, a large number from Spanish and a few ones from the English. They even translated several of our comic-operas. However, their favorite plays are still those which tell the mysteries of the Passion and other aspects of the Holy Book; those which represent Christ, the Holy Virgin and the Saints. (CHATELÊT: p. 83. T. M.)&lt;br /&gt;2.     3 – Robert Southey&lt;br /&gt;Was in Portugal in 1797 and in 1800&lt;br /&gt;The Italian Opera, whose absurdity requires such wickedness to support it, is in general but thinly attended here. The present Queen suffers no woman to appear on stage, and this measure, in reality the effect of her jealousy, was said to proceed from her regard to the morals of the public. Permission has been granted since I arrived here for a female dancer to exhibit herself, and the theatre has been crowded in consequence. Where was her Majesty’s regard to the public morals when she permitted this? No amusement should be tolerated which cannot benefit the spectator, and must vitiate the performer. Such Spartan-like prohibitions would be deemed despotic in our modern free states, where sumptuary laws are thought encroachments upon freedom; but how the diseased man shrinks when you touch his sores! (SOUTHEY: Pp. 345, 346)&lt;br /&gt;As we can see the result of men pretending to be women was not very pleasant , according to these statements and we can imagine that the result for the local people was also ridiculous, grotesque or at least comic. That would be the result of a constant caricature and therefore would not honour the Theatre.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3 – Pina Manique and the banishment of Women both from the stage and from the Theatre buildings&lt;br /&gt;            In 1780, December the 15th, the Chief of the Portuguese Police, Pina Manique, observing a request for a license for theatrical plays, writes the following to the Queen Mary I:&lt;br /&gt;… it seems to me that the applicants are worthy of the requested grace mainly because all the plays will be performed only by men which means that there won’t occur those disturbances which arouse whenever there is a huge gathering of people of both sexes. And to cut any abusive situation that might show up it is necessary that under no pretext shall women be allowed to pass the doors of the Theatre of the representation, back stage, and scenery places and lodges; and in the boxes there shall be no curtains and no woman or prostitute who shadow the virtue shall be accepted.&lt;br /&gt;3. 1 – The case of Luisa Todi (1753 – 1833)&lt;br /&gt;            Luisa Todi was the most famous Portuguese actress and singer of the 18th century. She worked in Lisbon and than she moved to Oporto where she worked from 1771 until 1776, the year in which she left Portugal to work abroad becoming very famous and singing on the most prestigious stages in Europe. In spite of the importance of her diplomatic role carrying the name of Portugal wherever she sang, she suffered the restraining measures that did not allow women to act on Portuguese Theatres. She was only allowed to come back to sing in 1793, for the celebration of the birth of the Princess of Beira, Maria Teresa de Bragança. Todi needed a special permit which was only granted due to the intervention of the Empress of Prussia and to the request made by the Portuguese diplomat assigned to her court. It was the same Pina Manique who accepted her for the celebration but Victor Eleutério says that:&lt;br /&gt;The coldness of the reception, the absence of the royal family and the audience’s lack of enthusiasm dramatically highlighted the difference in the presence of Europe’s most famous actress and singer.  (ELEUTÉRIO: p.263)&lt;br /&gt;Luisa Todi came back to Portugal in 1799 and died in 1811, poor and blind.&lt;br /&gt;3. 2 – The Royal Theatre of São Carlos&lt;br /&gt;         In 1793, June 21st, the same Chief of the Police asked Queen Mary I permission to change the name of the new Opera Theatre from Princesa do Brasil to São Carlos.&lt;br /&gt;          At this point, the last request is to beg Your Highness to give us the license to name the actual Theatre Princesa do Brasil with the title of São Carlos (…).&lt;br /&gt;The Theatre had been built with money from several merchants and the gathered receipts were meant to finance the functioning of the Casa Pia, an Orphanage for boys founded by Pina Manique. Queen Mary was not interested in promoting a Theatre, since it was due to her that women were kept away from all official stages, hence, for a Public Theatre to be blessed by her it would better carry a religious name. Since its architect, José da Costa e Silva, had followed the plan of the Teatro S. Carlo in Naples, the choice was clear. In fact, if women were not allowed to act how could a Theatre bear the name of a woman and specially of a royal one? The fact that it was previously called Teatro Princeza do Brasil mislead some of the Portuguese Historians about the origin of its name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4 – Prejudice Extension&lt;br /&gt;         As Roland Barthes once said, mentalities take longer to change than ideologies. Prejudice belongs to the ambit of mentality. Therefore, when a prejudice is installed, even when political and social circumstances change, the social behaviour tends to remain unchanged for a while. In 1805, 3rd of January, the Police Chief at the time, still under the authority of Queen Mary I (although her madness was already deeply installed and her son was the regent since 1799), writes in the books of the Intendência Geral da Polícia:&lt;br /&gt;I was notified by Agostinho Catalani that in his house had been insulted by Jozé Antonio Caminha, Lucio Jozé Bolonha, and Manoel Izidro da Paz beating him with several slaps and meaning to throw him from the stairs because the above mentioned Agostinho Catalani wanted to preserve the honour of his house and not to allow them in there (…). In the morning of the following day he came with tears in his eyes repeating the same notification and saying again that he did not want to lose the good opinion in which he had always preserved his wife, and daughter, in Italy and several other countries of Europe where he had been. (…) It is true that no family chief is obliged to allow in his house any person against his will; it is also true that wife and children are subjected to him and that the recurrent has given proves that he keeps wife and daughter without any note in their behaviour, which is very rare among people who work in the Theatre.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Catalani’s wife as well as his daughter were both actresses and singers and the event took place after an opening in S. Carlos’ Theatre.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Conclusion&lt;br /&gt;         Either caused by despotic authority or under the reasons of religion, censorship against women did create a bigger gap than the one that already existed between Portugal and the rest of the Europe. It limited Theatrical evolution for it ignored the importance of women to convey feminine emotions. Failing that, the role of Theatre as a “school of civilization” also failed. Therefore, the ideas of the Enlightenment did not reach the Portuguese population as far as Theatre is concerned. It was a drawback in what Marquês de Pombal had achieved. It was a drawback from the rest of the world. That was the consequence of a situation that lasted for more than twenty years. A situation that kept the audience away from truth and seriousness, by depriving it from watching women act. Those were the consequences of casting women away from stages silencing their voices and forbidding their lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bibliography&lt;br /&gt;Contas da Secretaria da Intendência Geral da Polícia, Livros I, IV e VIII, A. N. T. T.&lt;br /&gt;BECKFORD, William&lt;br /&gt;1835, Italy; with sketches of Spain and Portugal, Vol. II, London: Richard Bentley&lt;br /&gt;BRITO, Manuel Carlos de,&lt;br /&gt;1989, Opera in Portugal in the eighteenth century, Cambridge: Cambridge&lt;br /&gt;CARREIRA, Laureano&lt;br /&gt;1988, O Teatro e a Censura em Portugal na Segunda Metade do séc. VXIII, Lisboa: Imprensa nacional – Casa da Moeda&lt;br /&gt;CHATELET, Duc du,&lt;br /&gt;            1799, Voyage en Portugal, Vol. II, BN&lt;br /&gt;ELEUTÉRIO, Victor Luís,&lt;br /&gt;2003, Luisa Todi, Lisboa: Montepio Geral&lt;br /&gt;SOUTHEY, Robert,&lt;br /&gt;1799, Letters written during a short residence in Spain and Portugal, Bristol: Longman and Rees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1" title="" href="http://www.blogger.com/post-create.g?blogID=8200455#_ftnref1" name="_ftn1"&gt;[1]&lt;/a&gt; Literary pseudonym of the Portuguese Major Diogo Ferrier.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-8898657318914706074?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/8898657318914706074/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=8898657318914706074' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/8898657318914706074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/8898657318914706074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2009/07/comunicacao-para-firtifrt.html' title='Comunicação para FIRT/IFRT'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-6529338625772623857</id><published>2009-07-20T06:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-20T06:30:37.348-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Academic or not?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Pois é querido blog. Apesar de, universalmente, os estudos performativos serem considerados sine qua non para perceber a evolução do ser humano e da sociedade (&lt;em&gt;ethnos, pathos, ethos&lt;/em&gt;), o preconceito medíocre continua a ver só a aplicabilidade prática. Mesmo sendo uma área de estudos da Univ. Clássica. O pior é que parte dos próprios &lt;em&gt;performers.&lt;/em&gt; Põe-me os nervos em franja. Eu explico, os Estudos Artísticos existem num vertente teórica que se define por ciências sociais e humanas. Qualquer candidatura à bolsa mais elevada neste país (Fundação para a Ciência e Tecnologia), da qual sou bolseiro, só é atribuída, depois de se considerar pertinente e inovador o projecto de Doutoramento, se o estado da "arte" naquela área for pouco desenvovido e merecer atenção. Inferimos, deste modo, que para o conhecimento instituído, é definida como arte toda e qualquer obra (&lt;em&gt;work&lt;/em&gt;) que nasça da mão do homem. Assim, as ciências matemáticas: física, química e medicina, são "arte". Política, é arte, psicologia é arte, antroplogia é arte, sociologia, é arte, etc. Porquê? Porque tudo aquilo que exista na natureza em estado bruto e caótico só passa a ter existência concreta quando "organizado" pelo Homem. A partir desta premissa, tudo o que existe e que foi instituído pelo Homem é Arte. Já na Grécia Clássica, as três disciplinas mais importantes eram, por esta mesma ordem, Arte, Filosofia e Direito.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Ora bem, onde quero eu chegar com isto? Acontece que, como sou um homem de palco (dos teatros e afins) o meu percurso académico é assombrado por isso, i.e., como estou a fazer um Doutoramento em Estudos Artísticos (depois de um Mestrado em estudos de Teatro e, antes dele, uma pós graduação/especialização na mesma área), ainda ouço colegas a falarem como me falavam outrora no Curso Superior de Teatro (como se fosse só ler, escrever e fazer peças). Bom, há poucos dias, falando sobre as defesas das teses de mestrado, alguém referia uma tese como "mais" académcia do que outra. Ora, se são tudo áreas da Academia como é que uma pode ser "mais" académica do que a outra? Têm a mesma extensão, são sujeitas à mesma forma estrutural e têm que integrar uma determinada quantidade de biografia pertinente. Além de que  são sempre o estudo de uma ideia de determinado campo do conhecimento. Excepto quando se passa para o plano do Doutoramento no qual se passa para a defesa de uma ideia nova e inovadora para determinado campo do conhecimento. Não sei porquê mas irritou-me mesmo muito. Bem, irá passar rapidamente, tenho a certeza.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Besos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-6529338625772623857?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/6529338625772623857/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=6529338625772623857' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/6529338625772623857'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/6529338625772623857'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2009/07/academic-or-not.html' title='Academic or not?'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-7272235767770679771</id><published>2009-07-09T11:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T12:10:41.138-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hello life!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SlY3q-kuqNI/AAAAAAAAAK4/nUmGPMlyqNc/s1600-h/brusacha.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 216px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356530018294868178" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SlY3q-kuqNI/AAAAAAAAAK4/nUmGPMlyqNc/s320/brusacha.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Querido Blog, long time no see :--).Ontem fui aos Fados da Tasca do Chico com um amigo que vive em Londres e estava cá de fugida. Adivinhem quem lá estava com o seu staff? E GNR's à paisana? O Sacana Lopes (perdão, Santana), lol.Hoje fui ver "Bruno": um must para escapar às sugestões da silly season. Terminei o dia a comprar o CD dos Oquestrada (Martinha, que saudades dos vossos tempos Chapitonianos com a banda sonora que fizeram para o Nosferatu). Estou a ouvir agora e animadamente. Ainda comprei dois filmes com o Sr. Javier Barden (Golden Balls e Desejos Inconscientes). A partir dagora venha o Sacha Baron Cohen quando quiser. Fiquei fã :-). Bem, vou passear o Lobo. Entretanto fiquem com o momento trágico em que medeia é consumida pelo fogo irreversível da verdade depois de matar os filhos. Besos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-6182eca4fc71f08b" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v20.nonxt2.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D6182eca4fc71f08b%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331655288%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D4C7008AEB7EBA321DD29DDC834B9720D83E6A883.389EE64FD2F55B834CCCC50D6B7A7732A7CA7692%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D6182eca4fc71f08b%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DaP9yuR0mfs6YN2HxNz0HUqwZ4eU&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v20.nonxt2.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D6182eca4fc71f08b%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331655288%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D4C7008AEB7EBA321DD29DDC834B9720D83E6A883.389EE64FD2F55B834CCCC50D6B7A7732A7CA7692%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D6182eca4fc71f08b%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DaP9yuR0mfs6YN2HxNz0HUqwZ4eU&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-7272235767770679771?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=6182eca4fc71f08b&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/7272235767770679771/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=7272235767770679771' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/7272235767770679771'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/7272235767770679771'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2009/07/hello-life.html' title='Hello life!'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SlY3q-kuqNI/AAAAAAAAAK4/nUmGPMlyqNc/s72-c/brusacha.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-7901451758118889192</id><published>2009-05-26T01:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-26T01:38:58.129-07:00</updated><title type='text'>7 da manhã</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/Shuql00UJsI/AAAAAAAAAKo/Pbkhr9ss0W8/s1600-h/marseille+002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340049349987804866" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 196px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/Shuql00UJsI/AAAAAAAAAKo/Pbkhr9ss0W8/s320/marseille+002.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Odeio as pessoas que se levantam às sete da manhã na boa. Eu nunca consigo. Parece sempre que os olhos estão colados.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mas enfim.... la vie oblige.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Besos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-7901451758118889192?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/7901451758118889192/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=7901451758118889192' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/7901451758118889192'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/7901451758118889192'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2009/05/7-da-manha.html' title='7 da manhã'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/Shuql00UJsI/AAAAAAAAAKo/Pbkhr9ss0W8/s72-c/marseille+002.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-1852971171686324368</id><published>2009-04-27T15:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-27T15:45:39.650-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Produção e programação nacional</title><content type='html'>Não sei qual é pior, se a produção da TVI ou se a programação da SIC.&lt;br /&gt;A TVI apresenta, numa produção sua, &lt;em&gt;Equador,&lt;/em&gt; onde surge uma pedra de tomar banho e/ou lavar as mãos com a inscrição &lt;em&gt;lift up&lt;/em&gt;, isto numa época em Portugal era um dos grandes fabricadores de parafernália para a higiene no WC. A SIC programou uma novela brasileira, com o título &lt;em&gt;Caminho para as Índias&lt;/em&gt;, onde as mulheres fazem a dança sagrada dos dedos e mãos sem o mínimo cuidado de saberem o que estão a fazer.&lt;br /&gt;Enfim.&lt;br /&gt;F***-se. É mesmo atroz a actualidades.&lt;br /&gt;Besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-1852971171686324368?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/1852971171686324368/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=1852971171686324368' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/1852971171686324368'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/1852971171686324368'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2009/04/producao-e-programacao-nacional.html' title='Produção e programação nacional'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-2524907518180813780</id><published>2009-04-26T12:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-26T13:06:02.708-07:00</updated><title type='text'>25 de Abril e Mais</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SfS7fjz6VMI/AAAAAAAAAKg/ljFrYyls3qU/s1600-h/25+de+abril+2009.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329090409949451458" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SfS7fjz6VMI/AAAAAAAAAKg/ljFrYyls3qU/s320/25+de+abril+2009.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SfS7frg47TI/AAAAAAAAAKY/vNNdTt_A1cs/s1600-h/25+de+abril+2009+c.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329090412017151282" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SfS7frg47TI/AAAAAAAAAKY/vNNdTt_A1cs/s320/25+de+abril+2009+c.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SfS7fcEJ-DI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/hZI-g192tZ8/s1600-h/25+de+abril+2009+b.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329090407870101554" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SfS7fcEJ-DI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/hZI-g192tZ8/s320/25+de+abril+2009+b.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ora, foi um fim de semana votado a Abril e foi muito bom :-))&lt;br /&gt;No sábado fui sozinho ao Rossio porque o ppl estava de ressaca. Mas não pude deixar de marcar presença na celebração da Liberdade.  Ainda este fim de semana também fui "baptizar" o Lobo na praia. Fica o vídeo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Besos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-923254e19f3ae71" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v15.nonxt7.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D0923254e19f3ae71%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331655288%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D23A0C2E5B365FB50464E0B1EB3782430211DE312.4A26623095D3A1588D39A31483D463DE43D53194%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D923254e19f3ae71%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DTKStIANzQYUKkKDWUEW9pMwZ6JY&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v15.nonxt7.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D0923254e19f3ae71%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331655288%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D23A0C2E5B365FB50464E0B1EB3782430211DE312.4A26623095D3A1588D39A31483D463DE43D53194%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D923254e19f3ae71%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DTKStIANzQYUKkKDWUEW9pMwZ6JY&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-2524907518180813780?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=923254e19f3ae71&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/2524907518180813780/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=2524907518180813780' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/2524907518180813780'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/2524907518180813780'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2009/04/25-de-abril-e-mais.html' title='25 de Abril e Mais'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SfS7fjz6VMI/AAAAAAAAAKg/ljFrYyls3qU/s72-c/25+de+abril+2009.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-1388213747841456432</id><published>2009-04-22T15:09:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-22T15:09:31.486-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Katy Brand - Sugababes Parody (Three New Girls)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/Z0vPFJ5A4ko' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/Z0vPFJ5A4ko'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Fabulosa actriz, um must da Britcom. RTP2&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-1388213747841456432?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/1388213747841456432/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=1388213747841456432' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/1388213747841456432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/1388213747841456432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2009/04/katy-brand-sugababes-parody-three-new.html' title='Katy Brand - Sugababes Parody (Three New Girls)'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-3438627317477225462</id><published>2009-04-14T14:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T15:03:18.178-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Batepá</title><content type='html'>Ois, podem ver aqui copiando o link e colocando-o no vosso browser, ou clickando directamente no título do post.&lt;br /&gt;Besos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://tv1.rtp.pt/noticias/index.php?t=Filme-rodado-em-Sao-Tome.rtp&amp;headline=20&amp;visual=9&amp;tm=4&amp;article=213547&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-3438627317477225462?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://tv1.rtp.pt/noticias/index.php?t=Filme-rodado-em-Sao-Tome.rtp&amp;headline=20&amp;visual=9&amp;tm=4&amp;article=213547' title='Batepá'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/3438627317477225462/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=3438627317477225462' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/3438627317477225462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/3438627317477225462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2009/04/batepa.html' title='Batepá'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-6239600942108754220</id><published>2009-03-15T16:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-15T16:56:23.551-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A crise social</title><content type='html'>Olá blog. Ontem tive jantar chapitoriano. Foi muito fixe mas a crise social aperta. Depois de vários copos em sítios como a Maria Caxuxa fomos parar ao Souk. Parece que depois um amigo foi assalto, uma amiga foi abordada e invectivada a entrar num táxi. Enfim. Para além disso a última vez que tive sexo anónimo a despedida foi a dizer: que Deus nosso senhor te dê saúde.&lt;br /&gt;Ora francamente. Está demais. Ainda por cima quase fui assalto por um preto nojento que dava vontade de ser racista e esquecer que há pretos geniais (esta observação já é racista).&lt;br /&gt;Enfim, a crise não é só económica.&lt;br /&gt;Besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-6239600942108754220?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/6239600942108754220/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=6239600942108754220' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/6239600942108754220'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/6239600942108754220'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2009/03/crise-social.html' title='A crise social'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-4105064582933487287</id><published>2009-02-15T06:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-18T06:08:22.570-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Canções de São Valentino</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SZgqp1U59SI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/y6JcKBj1Ha0/s1600-h/CartazS%C3%A3oValentino.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303035459406525730" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 226px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SZgqp1U59SI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/y6JcKBj1Ha0/s320/CartazS%C3%A3oValentino.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Olá blog. Ontem foi dia de São Valentino. Não teria nada de mais não fosse o facto de ter aceitado um convite para, juntamente com o Pedro Fontainhas, criar um espectáculo de canções sobre o tema.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;A selecção foi feita sem qualquer imposição e o resultado foi uma noite mágica com um público delicioso. Quando comecei a fazer a selecção das músicas pensava muito na minha mãe que ainda não tinha falecido mas já se debatia muito com a neoplasia no pulmão. Pensava nas músicas que ela gostava. De alguma forma a selecção foi feita com base nessas influências. Ela era uma mulher de bom gosto e a noite acabou por funcionar como a homenagem que, sem conhecimento dos presentes, eu lhe estava a prestar. Um beijo grande mãe. E feliz estada onde quer que estejas. o Fontainhas foi fantástico a tocar e tudo fluiu muito bem.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Foi mesmo mágico. E estiveram lá as manas e o Pai :-). Só tive pena que alguns amigos do peito não tivessem podido ir. É nos espectáculos que eu me torno "pessoa" e onde me ficam a conhecer melhor. Por isso gosto sempre que alguns amigos do peito estejam. Ficam a conhecer melhor ainda os momentos em que estou e o que penso e sinto do Mundo.  Mais c'est la vie.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Besos bloguinho&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-4105064582933487287?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/4105064582933487287/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=4105064582933487287' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/4105064582933487287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/4105064582933487287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2009/02/cancoes-de-sao-valentino.html' title='Canções de São Valentino'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SZgqp1U59SI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/y6JcKBj1Ha0/s72-c/CartazS%C3%A3oValentino.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-6358332721922205916</id><published>2009-01-27T02:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-27T03:01:09.596-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ma Mére</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SX7pSKh3QqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/9oe6vCUd8hA/s1600-h/m%C3%A3e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295926710107587234" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 276px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SX7pSKh3QqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/9oe6vCUd8hA/s320/m%C3%A3e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hoje sonhei com a minha mãe. Só que o sonho era tão real que acordei ainda com a sensação de que ela estava viva. No sonho abri a porta da sala e ela estava deitada no sofá. Achei normal, disse "Olá Mãe" e fui beber água. Aí é que percebi que ela tinha voltado. Tinha-me esquecido que ela estava morta e achei normal ela estar no sofá. Percebes blog? Corri para a sala e ela tinha-se desvanecido. O ter pensado que ela estava morta fê-la desaparecer. tudo isto pensava eu no sonho. Chamei por ela. Fiquei no sofá a chamar por ela e ela foi-se materializando de novo e ái abracei-a, dei-lhe muito beijos e senti o cheiro dela. Um cheiro que neste momento (em que escrevo) não consigo sentir. E depois ela foi de novo. E Tudo não passou de um sonho.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Obrigado Mãe, por entrares nos meus sonhos de vez em quando. Sempre dá para matar saudades.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Beijos grandes onde quer que estejas.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Besos blog.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-6358332721922205916?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/6358332721922205916/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=6358332721922205916' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/6358332721922205916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/6358332721922205916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2009/01/ma-mere.html' title='Ma Mére'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SX7pSKh3QqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/9oe6vCUd8hA/s72-c/m%C3%A3e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-8290582865205810263</id><published>2008-12-26T04:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-26T04:26:32.879-08:00</updated><title type='text'>O tal Natal!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SVTNbuuX8OI/AAAAAAAAAJU/AQPyAuvQ0ww/s1600-h/simpsonxmas.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284074139095134434" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SVTNbuuX8OI/AAAAAAAAAJU/AQPyAuvQ0ww/s320/simpsonxmas.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;O Natal é um período muito estranho. Devíamos estar alegres mas algo cá dentro faz explodir a angústia. Não sei se é, ao mesmo tempo, o estar parado. Sou, de facto, um ser que precisa de estar em função. De outra forma enlouqueço. Mas o país e o mundo estão a apertar cada vez mais os limites das funções e acabo por, como consequência, dar comigo a pensar em disparates como a solidão e a velhice e, sobretudo e o mais cinzento: a falta de respeito que raia a humanidade.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Feliz Natal&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;besos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-8290582865205810263?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/8290582865205810263/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=8290582865205810263' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/8290582865205810263'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/8290582865205810263'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2008/12/o-tal-natal.html' title='O tal Natal!'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SVTNbuuX8OI/AAAAAAAAAJU/AQPyAuvQ0ww/s72-c/simpsonxmas.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-1974065390253830463</id><published>2008-12-10T08:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T08:44:07.933-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Não me pagam, mas tenho um cão!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/ST_xx4XxCYI/AAAAAAAAAJM/PNvm8XEcLbQ/s1600-h/Lobo-05-11-2008+003.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278203127549462914" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 316px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/ST_xx4XxCYI/AAAAAAAAAJM/PNvm8XEcLbQ/s320/Lobo-05-11-2008+003.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Querido blog, começo a ficar farto de algumas coisas que se instalam como rotinas e que revelam um profundo desrespeito por quem, como eu, se empenha. Refiro-me aos pagamentos a tempo e horas das funções que vou exercendo como formador. Ambos os espaços retomam sempre o atraso nas remunerações em alturas que, como é a época, temos mais necessidade na rapidez das mesmas. Mas enfim, as pessoas desiludem e nem sequer é novidade. Por isso agora tenho um cão. Chama-se Lobo e, ao menos esse, dá-me atenção.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;É Serra d'Aires com Golden Retriever. Apresento-te o Lobo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;besos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-1974065390253830463?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/1974065390253830463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=1974065390253830463' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/1974065390253830463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/1974065390253830463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2008/12/no-me-pagam-mas-tenho-um-co.html' title='Não me pagam, mas tenho um cão!'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/ST_xx4XxCYI/AAAAAAAAAJM/PNvm8XEcLbQ/s72-c/Lobo-05-11-2008+003.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-2634971320024750729</id><published>2008-11-24T15:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-24T16:00:15.081-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A minha Mãe!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SSs_sG7Oe7I/AAAAAAAAAI8/dsJzA9S6rxw/s1600-h/m%C3%A3e20anos.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272377815773117362" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 202px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SSs_sG7Oe7I/AAAAAAAAAI8/dsJzA9S6rxw/s320/m%C3%A3e20anos.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Caro Blog, como vais? Eu tenho andado distante porque tem sido um período complicado. A minha mãe, a mulher mais bela do mundo, faleceu ao fim de 1 ano de luta coom um advsersário forte: neoplasia no pulmão. A primeira quimio ainda funcionou bem mas depois de agosto as coisas tornaram a complicar e ela durou mais 3 meses sem grande qualidade de vida. Enfim. os últimos tempos (semanas) foram então ainda mais difíceis com grandes complicações ao nível do fôlego, respiração e estômago. Dores infernais e autênticas apneias. Lá se foi, no dia 14 de novembro. Nasceu Virgem, Morreu Escorpião. pelo meio foi um aquário de água dos olhos; um veio emocional de peixes; uma procura de equilíbrio balança mas um tormentoso dia-a-dia caranguejo; julgou ter encontrado o seu gémeos de alma mas afinal teve que lidar com um tormentoso capricórnio que lhe feriu a dignidade de touro e abateu a alma de leão. Nunca conseguiu ser um carneiro mas procurava lançar a lança de sagitário. Contudo, os filhos não conseguiram ser seus gémeos nem devolver a alma de leão apesar de tentarem dar-lhe um equilíbrio na balança.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Paz à sua alma e ao percurso que atravessou com tantas mudanças sociais, políticas e uma guerra pelo meio.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Beijos grandes do teu filho com saudade&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Besos Blog e vê como ela era bela aos 20 anos. Chamava-se Dulce. E era doce. Baptista e baptizada, Martins como mártir que foi e dos Santos que adorava e cultivava. Chegou a ser Schiappa mas por fim lá desistiu quando o divórcio finalmente a convenceu de que já nada havia a fazer em relação a esse nome.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mais besos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-2634971320024750729?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/2634971320024750729/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=2634971320024750729' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/2634971320024750729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/2634971320024750729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2008/11/minha-me.html' title='A minha Mãe!'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SSs_sG7Oe7I/AAAAAAAAAI8/dsJzA9S6rxw/s72-c/m%C3%A3e20anos.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-2035725401908570408</id><published>2008-10-06T15:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-06T15:43:46.095-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Vieira Serpentes e mais</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SOqTxLuTEtI/AAAAAAAAAGI/cnjuym9_ObY/s1600-h/dancadaserpente.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254174388450955986" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SOqTxLuTEtI/AAAAAAAAAGI/cnjuym9_ObY/s320/dancadaserpente.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SOqTFu80dhI/AAAAAAAAAGA/tk0IOf-GYnA/s1600-h/barcelona+2008+019.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254173641992861202" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SOqTFu80dhI/AAAAAAAAAGA/tk0IOf-GYnA/s320/barcelona+2008+019.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Viva. nos últimos meses, mais precisamente desde Junho, vivi duas peças de teatro. Uma pela mão da Filomena Oliveira (produção do TNDMII) - Vieira: O céu na terra - e outra de minha criação - A Dança da Serpente.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Belos tempos. Já há muito que não trabalhava com um elenco tão grande, o do Vieira. Foi bom. Boa gente. Belo elenco. Pelo meio ainda tive os workshops da Marcia e a quimio da minha mãe que ainda está com essa vicissitude. Mas creio que vivi um belo verão com trabalho. É bom trabalhar. Pelo menos quando se gosta do que se faz.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Há dois dias que estou em repouso. Apetece a folia mas o repouso é preciso. E a SIC está com um bom produto no género Telenovela.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mas parece que as minhas relações com a TV não passam de participações curtas e rápidas :-). mas é bom ver a TV nacional a dar cada vez mais trabalho aos actores num país onde a Indústria do Cinema ainda é um sonho distante.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bem, deixo-vos com duas fotos dos trabalhos que referi e esta semana cumpro 43 anos de vida, 25 anos do primeiro cachet em espectáculo e 21 anos de actor profissional :-).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Besos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-2035725401908570408?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/2035725401908570408/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=2035725401908570408' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/2035725401908570408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/2035725401908570408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2008/10/vieira-serpentes-e-mais.html' title='Vieira Serpentes e mais'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SOqTxLuTEtI/AAAAAAAAAGI/cnjuym9_ObY/s72-c/dancadaserpente.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-6850626753699403599</id><published>2008-09-22T06:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-22T06:39:29.769-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A DANÇA DA SERPENTE</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SNegAonRzoI/AAAAAAAAAF4/WEkxeOwwOrc/s1600-h/dancadaserpente.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248839823486209666" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SNegAonRzoI/AAAAAAAAAF4/WEkxeOwwOrc/s320/dancadaserpente.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Olá Bloguinho. Estreou na quinta feira passada o meu último espectáculo/monólogo. Considero-o a minha despedida dos monólogos pessoais. É uma parábola aos ditadores. Achei pertinente nesta época em que a liberdade do indivíduo treme pela coacção/indução/manipulação. Não é que se obrigue através da violência física ninguém a fazer seja o que for mas sim através de publicidade subliminar. Através de ideias que veiculam subrepticiamente. Será que é possível combater uma ditadura que se instala em democracia?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Enfim. Não sei. mas voltando ao espectáculo, o mesmo chama-se A DANÇA DA SERPENTE e está no Trindade, na sala Estúdio, até dia 11 de Outubro, de 4ª a sáb.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Besos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-6850626753699403599?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/6850626753699403599/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=6850626753699403599' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/6850626753699403599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/6850626753699403599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2008/09/dana-da-serpente.html' title='A DANÇA DA SERPENTE'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SNegAonRzoI/AAAAAAAAAF4/WEkxeOwwOrc/s72-c/dancadaserpente.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-2716309590385208868</id><published>2008-08-29T04:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T04:55:25.958-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Long time no see :-)</title><content type='html'>Hey bloguito. Há algum tempo não? Aconteceu muita coisa de que não estás a par. Mas já volto com mais tempo e imagens para te pôr ao corrente. Hoje apeteceu-me só desabafar. Sei/sinto que a minha mãe não vai durar muito. O que ela tem é muito grave e com poucas esperanças. Mas quero sobretudo reduzir-lhe o sofrimento. Custa-me é ver pessoas que práticamente cresceram a ir lá casa aos aniversários, que jantaram lá, para quem ela cozinhou inclusivé com muito amor e carinho e que nem sequer tenham dado um alô. Percebo que visitar é complicado. Mas ela já nem esequer está no Hospital, está em casa. Prometeram várias vezes ir vê-la. Népias. Percebo isso tudo. Agora que nem sequer telefonem quando sabem que ela está sozinha durante várias horas... puta que pariu o ser humano.&lt;br /&gt;Enfim... desculpa o desabafo bloguinho.&lt;br /&gt;Besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-2716309590385208868?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/2716309590385208868/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=2716309590385208868' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/2716309590385208868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/2716309590385208868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2008/08/long-time-no-see.html' title='Long time no see :-)'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-2955957612100190584</id><published>2008-06-19T03:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-19T03:57:30.133-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Cafeteira</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SFo66UAhovI/AAAAAAAAAFw/c4c3MP3fqhI/s1600-h/cartaz+a+cafetreira.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5213544292112507634" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SFo66UAhovI/AAAAAAAAAFw/c4c3MP3fqhI/s320/cartaz+a+cafetreira.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SFo6s3jQiOI/AAAAAAAAAFo/SOqqG_enLxg/s1600-h/cafeteira+cartaxo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5213544061135259874" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SFo6s3jQiOI/AAAAAAAAAFo/SOqqG_enLxg/s320/cafeteira+cartaxo.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ontem foi a estreia de "A Cafeteira" no Chapitô. A peça que escrevi este ano para os meus alunos do Cartaxo e do Chapitô. Ontem foi a vez do Chapitô subir ao palco. A semana passada  coube ao Cartaxo. É bonita e divertida mas deixa um sabor algo agridoce na boca. E depois é sempre o culminar de um ano de trabalho e a ressaca desse turbilhão de energia que se gastou. Dá uma espécie de letargia. Antes fosse liturgia. Ao menos tinha cantilena :-). Mas é belo vê-los a ficarem entusiasmados com a magia do espectáculo. As luzes. A música. O texto. A maquilhagem. O guarda roupa. no entanto estou com muito trabalho neste momento e gostava de estar mais com eles mas eles também estão a crescer e têm os seus compromissos e correm para o dia seguinte antecipando as poucas horas de sono que vão ter por terem ainda o turbilhão de energia na cabeça. É bom e belo vê-los assim. Quase que nos esquecemos que estamos a envelhecer :-).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Parabéns Anabela Boavida; Anabela Matias; André Salvador; Angélica Conceição; Conceição Ferreira; Elisabete Santos; Filipa Almeida; Glória Oliveira; Helena Henriques; Helena Luzio; Jennifer; Joana Forno; João Pedro Veiga; Nuno Labau; Nuno Rodrigues; Pedro Bona; Teresa Lopes; Tiago Campino; Florbela Silva; Açores (Bruno Silveira); Ana Teresa Vaz; Bruno Pereira; Daia Pacheco; Daniela Kees; Inês Guerra; Joana Rodeira; Leonardo Otoni; Mafalda Jacinto; Manuela Mocho; Margarida Cortes-Barbosa; Maria Sousa; Mário Branco; Mouzinho Arsénico; Natasha Bulha; Raquel Catarino; Rodrigo Sousa Machado; Simão; Sofia Ávila; Sónia Santos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Besos :-)))&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-2955957612100190584?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/2955957612100190584/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=2955957612100190584' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/2955957612100190584'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/2955957612100190584'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2008/06/cafeteira.html' title='A Cafeteira'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SFo66UAhovI/AAAAAAAAAFw/c4c3MP3fqhI/s72-c/cartaz+a+cafetreira.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-6906795184937078016</id><published>2008-05-29T04:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-29T04:45:36.266-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Prémios Guia dos Teatros</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SD6XUTt2MSI/AAAAAAAAAFY/aA_okcLyhS8/s1600-h/bruno+schiappa+pr%C3%A9mio+Imortal.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5205764594432618786" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SD6XUTt2MSI/AAAAAAAAAFY/aA_okcLyhS8/s320/bruno+schiappa+pr%C3%A9mio+Imortal.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SD6XUTt2MTI/AAAAAAAAAFg/tQ7S7SMWKZI/s1600-h/bruno+schiappa+pr%C3%A9mio+para+Frozen.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5205764594432618802" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SD6XUTt2MTI/AAAAAAAAAFg/tQ7S7SMWKZI/s320/bruno+schiappa+pr%C3%A9mio+para+Frozen.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ainda há coisas boas e pessoas fantásticas. O Guia dos teatros, através de Frederico Corado - organizador e criador - levou a cabo uma tarefa hercúlea de premiar os actores de cena. Fiquei muito contente porque fui contemplado com dois prémios: Melhor Espectáculo Solo - (I)MORTAL; e Melhor Actor num Papel Secundário - FROZEN. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Embaixo está a notícia e duas fotos. Thanks a million Guia dos Teatros e Frederico Corado. :-)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maria do Céu Guerra recebe Prémio Carreira&lt;br /&gt;Quarta-Feira, 28 de Maio de 2008&lt;br /&gt;Débora Godinho (texto)Luís Brás (fotos)O blog «Guia dos Teatros» organizou a entrega dos Prémios de Teatro 2007 que foram entregues no Museu Nacional do Teatro, na presença de muitas figuras do teatro nacional, incluindo dos vencedores das diversas categorias. Alguns prémios foram entregues pelo blog através de uma votação interna e outros foram entregues através da votação online do público que visita o site. A entrega dos Prémios de Teatro Guia dos Teatro 2007 foi apresentada por Vítor de Sousa e Cátia Garcia. Foi num ambiente acolhedor e debaixo de grande emoção que os prémios foram entregues, depois de Frederico Corado, do «Guia dos Teatros», ter agradecido a presença de todos no evento. O blog recebeu mais duas mil votações para as 21 categorias, entre as quais Melhor Peça, Melhor Musical, Melhor Encenador, Melhor Actor, Melhor Actriz, Melhor Actor Revelação, Melhor Cenografia, entre outras. Durante o evento o Guia dos Teatros homenageou ainda a fotógrafa de teatro Maria Luísa Gomes. ------------------------------Prémios entregues pelo blog Guia dos Teatros1 – Prémio Guia dos Teatros: Museu Nacional do Teatro (director: José Carlos Alvarez)  2 – Prémio Crítica: Associação Portuguesa de Críticos do Teatro (directora: Maria Helena Serôdio)  3 – Prémio Fernando Amado: São José Lapa e Inês Lapa Lopes  4 – Prémio Técnico: José Manuel Marques  5 – Prémio António Pedro: Carolina Mendes, da Companhia Crinabel  6 – Prémio Frederico Valério: Ricardo Afonso (receberam o prémio os seus pais)  7 – Prémio Mecenas: Açoreana Seguros (não pode estar ninguém presente)  8 – Prémio Carreira e Melhor Adaptação: Maria do Céu Guerra  9 – Homenagem à fotógrafa de teatro Maria Luísa Gomes Prémios atribuídos através da votação do público 1 – Melhor Coreografia: Amélia Bentes, em «Cabeças no Ar»  2 – Melhor Cenografia: José Manuel Castanheira, em «A Filha Rebelde»  3 – Melhores Figurinos: Storytailors, em «Ricardo II»  4 – Melhor Desenho Luz: Filipe La Féria e João Fontes, em «Jesus Cristo Superstar»  5 – Melhor Musica Original: Fernando Mota, em «Por Trás dos Montes» (não esteve presente)  6 – Melhor Direcção Musical: Telmo Lopes, em «Música no Coração»  7 – Melhor Sala de Teatro: Maria Matos Teatro Municipal (recebe o prémio uma representante do teatro)  8 – Melhor actriz num Papel Secundário: Beatriz Batarda, em «quando o Inverno Chegar»  9 - Melhor actor num Papel Secundário e Melhor Espectáculo Solo: Bruno Schiappa, em «Presos no Gelo»  10 – Melhor Tradução: «Sweeney Todd – O terrível barbeiro de Fleet Street»  11 – Melhor Actor: Simão Rubim, em «As Vampiras Lésbicas do Sodoma»  12 – Melhor Actriz: Maria João Luis  13 – Prémio Make Up For Ever Melhor Actor Revelação: Hugo Rendas, em «Jesus Cristo Superstar», «Principezinho» e «Música no Coração»  14 – Melhor Elenco Conjunto: Teatro Praga, em «O Avarento ou a Última Festa»  15 – Melhor Espectáculo Infantil: Fernando Gomes, em «O barbeiro de Sevilha»  16 – Melhor Texto Original Português: «A Minha Mulher», de José Maria Vieira Mendes (não esteve presente)  17 – Melhor Musical: «Musica no Coração», de Filipe La Féria  18 – Melhor Encenador: Luís Miguel Cintra, em «Tragédias de Júlio César»  19 – Melhor Peça: «As Vampiras Lésbicas do Sodoma», de Juvenal Garcês&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-6906795184937078016?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/6906795184937078016/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=6906795184937078016' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/6906795184937078016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/6906795184937078016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2008/05/prmios-guia-dos-teatros.html' title='Prémios Guia dos Teatros'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SD6XUTt2MSI/AAAAAAAAAFY/aA_okcLyhS8/s72-c/bruno+schiappa+pr%C3%A9mio+Imortal.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-4950504448867352041</id><published>2008-05-05T09:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-05T09:59:07.917-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Livrete e registo de propriedade</title><content type='html'>Boas, se alguém encontrar o meu Livrete (Renault clio) e registo de propriedade diga.&lt;br /&gt;Perdi :-((( e é um balúrdio a segunda via :-(((.&lt;br /&gt;besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-4950504448867352041?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/4950504448867352041/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=4950504448867352041' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/4950504448867352041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/4950504448867352041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2008/05/livrete-e-registo-de-propriedade.html' title='Livrete e registo de propriedade'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-6654069284202659163</id><published>2008-04-25T07:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-25T07:32:09.507-07:00</updated><title type='text'>25 de Abril</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SBHrVhsmeZI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/DCflYp827oE/s1600-h/25-abril-cravo-1a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193190600390113682" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SBHrVhsmeZI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/DCflYp827oE/s320/25-abril-cravo-1a.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;34 anos de liberdade social e política. E estamos num caminho tortuoso.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Besos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-6654069284202659163?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/6654069284202659163/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=6654069284202659163' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/6654069284202659163'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/6654069284202659163'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2008/04/25-de-abril.html' title='25 de Abril'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SBHrVhsmeZI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/DCflYp827oE/s72-c/25-abril-cravo-1a.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-3343887377831428264</id><published>2008-04-23T10:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-23T10:12:54.378-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A ver vamos!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SA9uDBsmeYI/AAAAAAAAAFI/kDfzrljNRk4/s1600-h/marseille+realejo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192489893655640450" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SA9uDBsmeYI/AAAAAAAAAFI/kDfzrljNRk4/s320/marseille+realejo.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Saudades destes tempos!!! :-(&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-3343887377831428264?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/3343887377831428264/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=3343887377831428264' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/3343887377831428264'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/3343887377831428264'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2008/04/ver-vamos.html' title='A ver vamos!!!'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SA9uDBsmeYI/AAAAAAAAAFI/kDfzrljNRk4/s72-c/marseille+realejo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-3821981146169521090</id><published>2008-04-03T01:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-03T01:44:21.044-07:00</updated><title type='text'>(I)Mortal no Chapitô</title><content type='html'>No dia 27 de março (dia mundial do Teatro) fiz o (I)Mortal no Chapitô com o companheiro de palco Pedro Fontainhas ao piano.&lt;br /&gt;O comentário de um anónimo faz-me lembrar que ainda é possível acreditar.&lt;br /&gt;Obrigado e besos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4112093893803737175&amp;amp;postID=4102143709576817754"&gt;https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4112093893803737175&amp;amp;postID=4102143709576817754&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-3821981146169521090?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/3821981146169521090/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=3821981146169521090' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/3821981146169521090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/3821981146169521090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2008/04/imortal-no-chapit.html' title='(I)Mortal no Chapitô'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-6882759803080025343</id><published>2008-03-01T12:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-01T12:06:12.353-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Imortalidade</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/R8m3Iq8XiFI/AAAAAAAAAE4/ZyNbH_y2jtI/s1600-h/Imortalidade3.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172867006606051410" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/R8m3Iq8XiFI/AAAAAAAAAE4/ZyNbH_y2jtI/s320/Imortalidade3.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Estreou ontem, no Cartaxo, a segunda parte do Imortal. Chama-se Imortalidade.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Foi muito agradável ser bem acolhido.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mas continuo desencantado com o panorama. Mais com o mercado.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ninguém me chama para nada como actor :-((.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;besos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-6882759803080025343?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/6882759803080025343/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=6882759803080025343' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/6882759803080025343'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/6882759803080025343'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2008/03/imortalidade.html' title='Imortalidade'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/R8m3Iq8XiFI/AAAAAAAAAE4/ZyNbH_y2jtI/s72-c/Imortalidade3.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-6644645377432806223</id><published>2008-02-07T16:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-07T16:20:12.834-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Vou deitar-me</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/R6ugEt9ftTI/AAAAAAAAAEw/_ucAFg_aJ8E/s1600-h/eu+London.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5164397400627852594" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/R6ugEt9ftTI/AAAAAAAAAEw/_ucAFg_aJ8E/s320/eu+London.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Vou deitar-me a ler a SuperInteressante :-). Tem um artigo sobre como largar as dependências. Mas não é esse que vou ler. Vou ler o artigo que traz sobre SATANÁS ehehehehe:-) DEPOIS blogarei. Em italiano será que se diz "blogaró"? Fez-me lembrar uma música do Adriano Celentano: Il mondo e tropo in freta. Torneró? E lá nos íamos rir outra vez. Fod.....&lt;br /&gt;Ma anchora ed adesso ci sono io ed anche io.&lt;br /&gt;Besos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-6644645377432806223?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/6644645377432806223/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=6644645377432806223' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/6644645377432806223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/6644645377432806223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2008/02/vou-deitar-me.html' title='Vou deitar-me'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/R6ugEt9ftTI/AAAAAAAAAEw/_ucAFg_aJ8E/s72-c/eu+London.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-8764382882333689676</id><published>2008-02-07T15:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-07T16:01:32.255-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Resposta ao email de uma amiga cujo nome não menciono porque questões legais relacionadas com o direito à privacidade :-)</title><content type='html'>HÁ DOIS ANOS E AINDA MEXE FOD..... PORQUÊ QUE NÃO SOU CRUEL??????????????????????????? mais um fod...&lt;br /&gt;Em Montréal, entre espectáculos e processos de depressão e ansiedade li "A casa dos Budas Ditosos". Quem me dera ser assim.&lt;br /&gt;Na doença nem penso muito. Penso no fígado quando bebo um copinho de vinnho e já vou no terceiro de repente eehehehe.&lt;br /&gt;Sabes, há uma coisa que tu tens que é muito bom porque te dá uma missão - nunca pensei vir a dizer isto meu Deus - as crianças. Elas são um projecto a que te podes agarrar e têm sempre coisas para dizer e fazem amigos com pais jeitosos à vezes eheheeh.&lt;br /&gt;Sabes, li o The Secret em Julho e há uma verdade que lá não surge: Nós atraímos o que queremos DESDE QUE não envolva a vontade outra pessoa.&lt;br /&gt;Ah, e dinheiro também não é muito fácil mas dá-se um jeito.&lt;br /&gt;Espera... vou buscar um copo de vinho (a única bebida que posso beber)..... pronto, já cá estou de volta. É francês, o vinho, Côtes du Rhone (que chic - estava em saldo) e com uma cigarrilha holandesa (ainda de Montréal e ainda não as larguei, mas como cá não há acabam e pronto). De facto, das coisas que mais prazer me dão na vida, vinho e cigarrilhas estão na lista mas os tempos estão a mudar e qualquer dia não podemos beber nos restaurantes porque inventam que o álcool liberta um gaz qualquer vais ver.&lt;br /&gt;Enfim, o dinheiro... ser balança e ser serpente.... gostar da boa vida que custa dinheiro... no regresso fiz escala em Londres e decidi ir tomar o pequeno almoço a Covent Garden. Que chic, tinha seis horas. Não ia ficar no aeroporto a cheirar ar aquecido. Sim, porque isso há de fazer mal a qualquer coisa. E lá estou eu a pensar na relação e como nos íamos rir desta observação quando estávamos juntos. Fod... deve ser a terceira vez que digo isto... hoje estou complulsivo eehehehe. Deve ser do jet leg. Lá íamos rir outra vez "a bandeiras depregadas". Nunca percebi muito bem porque se diz isto do " A bandeiras despregadas"... e lá íamos rir outra vez. Vês? É assim que passo os dias. Fod... (4ª). Atraímos o que queremos DESDE QUE não envolva a vontade de outra pessoa. E falar sobre isto com uma família disfuncional que é o único grupo de pessoas que nos abraça??? Népias. É um pesadelo pior do que desfiar o novelo que leva ao minotauro.&lt;br /&gt;Uffff, olha, ia escrever isto tudo no meu blog mas como o teu email foi tão caloroso desabafei e agora faço copy paste ehehehe. Adoro a vida moderna das tecnologias. Só não gosto da lei do tabaco quando o ar aquecido deve fazer mal a alguma coisa. A mim faz. À ansiedade. Queria meter o mundo actual da tecnologia na época retro francesa dos anos 50 e poder ter tudo em madeira nos restaurantes. Coisa que já proíbiram por fazer mal a não sei quê. Mas isso é a mesma coisa que tu quereres fundir mais novos com mais velhos transformando a fusão no par ideal. Fod... (5ª). Fui às vicentinas e os doces já não estão no balcão de madeira. Agora é de vidro. Não faz mal a não sei quê mas vão descobrir daqui a pouco que faz a isto e aquilo e vamos ter que comer comprimidos de doce da avó e de bitoque.&lt;br /&gt;Enfim. Espero que não tenhas comprado jornal porque tens aqui muito que ler eheheh.&lt;br /&gt;É bom ter séquito :-) levanta a autoestima. Só porque és mulher. Porque senão levantava a autoestima e outra coisa. Que brejeiro que estou. Deve ser de ter lido "A casa dos Budas ditosos" :-).&lt;br /&gt;Aproveita. És gira. Não és doente. Tens filhos mas não é a mesma coisa que ser doente ehehehe. Não, as cigarrilhas da Holanda não são de haxixe são de tabaco. Deve ser o Côtes du Rhone eheeh.&lt;br /&gt;E para além disso nunca, mas nunca, te esqueças que "andas no teatro" como diria a Manuela ;-))).&lt;br /&gt;Beijokas grandes e hasta lunes que é como quem diz, arranja par no fim-de-semana para o dia 14 (São Valentino - dia dos namorados) ehehehe.&lt;br /&gt;Não , não estou louco. É só o jet leg a falar. Espero. Socorroooooooooooooooooooooooooooo :-))).&lt;br /&gt;Beijokas e tudo de bom para ti que bem mereces ;-).&lt;br /&gt;BS&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-8764382882333689676?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/8764382882333689676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=8764382882333689676' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/8764382882333689676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/8764382882333689676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2008/02/resposta-ao-email-de-uma-amiga-cujo.html' title='Resposta ao email de uma amiga cujo nome não menciono porque questões legais relacionadas com o direito à privacidade :-)'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-6601622046490033673</id><published>2008-01-28T14:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-08T14:53:45.443-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Desculpem...</title><content type='html'>Peço desculpa por transformar este blog numa diatribe. Acontece que me sinto desaproveitado profissionalmente e sobretudo como pessoa. A distância amplifica este sentimento. &lt;div&gt;Receio o que possa acontecer. Enfim.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mas quero tentar estar bem.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mas é dificil.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Besos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-6601622046490033673?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/6601622046490033673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=6601622046490033673' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/6601622046490033673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/6601622046490033673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2008/01/desculpem.html' title='Desculpem...'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-8176728337642622117</id><published>2008-01-26T07:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-08T14:55:21.897-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Daqui nada de bom</title><content type='html'>Nada de gostoso. Estou muito ansioso. O tempo esta muito frio aqui no Quebec, onde vim fazer a ultima digressao do 5 heures du matin (espectaculo da companhia Pigeons International que integro desde 2001 mas que acaba agora) e eu nao me dou nada bem com o ar condicionado quente porque me seca o nariz. Faco ansiedade e custa-me respirar. O tempo demora a passar e eu queria que fosse ja o fim desta aventura que veio em ma hora mas que era necessaria. Para quem nao sabe fui-me abaixo fisicamente nos ultimos 3 meses e isso fez-me sentir ainda mais sozinho do que ja me sentia. Aqui, com o ar rarefeito... Preciso de arranjar uma ocupacao que me faca sentir util e me levante a autoestima e me deixe pouco tempo para pensar. Ao pensar muito preocupo-me, ao preocupar-me fico ansioso, ao ficar ansioso fico com medo de ter uma depressao como a minha mae e as minhas irmas. E ai fico preocupado e volta tudo ao mesmo.&lt;br /&gt;Voltei a fumar cigarrilhas. Ha um dia que nao fumo e nem me apetece muito mas que fazer quando se esta parado....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is not a love song.&lt;br /&gt;Besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-8176728337642622117?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/8176728337642622117/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=8176728337642622117' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/8176728337642622117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/8176728337642622117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2008/01/daqui-nada-de-bom.html' title='Daqui nada de bom'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-650589934226013583</id><published>2008-01-01T05:21:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-01T05:22:29.455-08:00</updated><title type='text'>2008</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/R3o-iRUKuqI/AAAAAAAAAEk/OEFEDhzzjOQ/s1600-h/bs+oscar.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5150497882336049826" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/R3o-iRUKuqI/AAAAAAAAAEk/OEFEDhzzjOQ/s320/bs+oscar.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Com tudo de bom: Saúde plena; abundância total; prosperidade; sucesso em todas as áreas da vida; Amor; alegria no coração; escrita editada e publicada; direcção iluminada; Família Feliz; missão na vida clara e a ser bem cumprida; arte; artes performativas; serenidade; bem estar total; harmonia com a natureza e com a Energia Criadora Universal.&lt;br /&gt;São os meus votos, desejos e decisões para todos/as.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Besos :-) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-650589934226013583?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/650589934226013583/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=650589934226013583' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/650589934226013583'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/650589934226013583'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2008/01/2008.html' title='2008'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/R3o-iRUKuqI/AAAAAAAAAEk/OEFEDhzzjOQ/s72-c/bs+oscar.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-8738947461024085261</id><published>2007-12-27T11:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-27T11:26:52.506-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Olá</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Olá, cá estou antes que o ano acabe. Nem sei como começar mas se calhar deve ser pelo princípio. Estive internado e apanhei um susto valente daqueles que nos faz pensar que se vai morrer e não queremos. Como tinha dito no &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;post&lt;/span&gt; anterior, tinha apanhado uma coisa mas não tinha dito o nome. Essa coisa dá pelo nome de mononucleose e é tramada de curar até porque não há tratamento e o corpo é que dá conta do recado.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Entretanto uma médica deu-me um antibiótico, coisa que parece ser um erro &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;craço&lt;/span&gt; e tudo complicou. Fiquei com os sintomas todos em vez de ficar só com alguns e as dores de cabeça não me deixavam dormir. resultado, fui internado para fazer todo o tipo de exames e mais algum que até agora têm sido, graças a Deus, negativos mas fizeram-me duas &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;biopsias&lt;/span&gt;: uma óssea e uma à pele, cujos resultados só saberei dia 2. Eu tento não pensar no assunto mas a cabeça trai-me e ansiedade instala-se.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Com tudo isto tive o apoio incondicional de uma pessoa que por acaso achei que dadas as circunstâncias da vida dela não poderia estar tão presente mas foi incansável. Os outros amigos (e amigas) e familiares próximos, estiveram presentes o possível para eles e fiquei com a sensação de que tudo é de facto muito frágil. Não devia haver dor. Devíamos chegar a um ponto em que &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;tínhamos&lt;/span&gt; cumprido a missão e pronto. Partíamos como nascemos. Sem &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:perceber.Car@s"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;perceber. Car@s&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;, isto tem estado a corroer-me porque passo muito tempo sozinho, sem energia, canso-me depressa, e não durmo como deve de ser porque dá suores nocturnos várias vezes e eu acordo essas vezes. Acontece que pode ir até 4 meses para passarem de vez os sintomas e eu temo que, com este estado, o meu trabalho (pouco) vá por água abaixo e a situação financeira se agrave de modo incomportável. Sei que sou boa pessoa e que mereço melhor mas a vida, talvez por ser muito refilão, não me deu muito trabalho a ponto de poder ter comprado uma casa e ter ao menos essa parte descansada. Como a minha família próxima é pobre não posso contar com eles para me ajudarem e a casa é mínima e não posso ir para lá. A minha ansiedade prende-se com a falta de trabalho que me vem assolando de há vários meses a esta parte e que me está a deixar ansioso. Não tenho nada. Sou mesmo tipo artista à antiga. Por isso, tudo o que vos peço é, caso se lembrem de mim na passagem de ano, torçam para que o trabalho que tanto gosto me volte a sorrir e a acenar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bem hajam e votos de um Excelente 2008 para todo/as.&lt;br /&gt;Besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-8738947461024085261?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.elfyourself.com/?id=1827034412' title='Olá'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/8738947461024085261/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=8738947461024085261' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/8738947461024085261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/8738947461024085261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/12/ol.html' title='Olá'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-6958774521990542241</id><published>2007-10-29T10:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-29T10:52:42.656-07:00</updated><title type='text'>O Humano</title><content type='html'>Tenho estado numa espécie de chatice pegada que é estar de cama sem saber o que tneho. No entanto já sei e afinal é uma coisa comum mas chata que ataca o fígado e dá febre e cansaço e passa sozinha mas antes disso é mesmo incapacitante f----s-. Bem, adiante, entre tremores e suores tenho visto algumas pérolas e duas não posso deixar de aconselhar: &lt;em&gt;ShortBus &lt;/em&gt;e &lt;em&gt;Half Nelson &lt;/em&gt;(com uma tradução idiota para "Encurralados").&lt;br /&gt;Duas pérolas sobre o humano e a humanidade. Como um interfere com a outra e a boicota.&lt;br /&gt;São brilhantes argumentos com brilhantes interpretações. Um &lt;em&gt;must.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-6958774521990542241?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/6958774521990542241/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=6958774521990542241' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/6958774521990542241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/6958774521990542241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/10/o-humano.html' title='O Humano'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-229978485323115617</id><published>2007-10-24T15:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-24T16:07:41.534-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Olá</title><content type='html'>Ontem (quer dizer, da última vez) escrevi "gripe" no blog porque não sabia o que chamar ao conjunto de sintomas. Ainda não sei nem sabem os médicos. O que interessa é que está a ir embora. Poderei nunca vira a saber o que provocou o quadro sintomático que tenho tido. Enfim. Mas isto de estar doentinho tem coisas boas. Vê-se televisão. E hoje vi uma pérola. The Nine. É uma série que parece ser coisa boa. Boas interpretações e bons trabalhos de dramaturgia. Enfim. Há coisa ainda pelas quais vale a pena estar doente :-).&lt;br /&gt;Besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-229978485323115617?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/229978485323115617/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=229978485323115617' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/229978485323115617'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/229978485323115617'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/10/ol.html' title='Olá'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-6425128353603655955</id><published>2007-10-19T15:13:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-19T15:17:25.924-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Agora sim</title><content type='html'>O de hoje. Liguei a pedir ajuda mas não pedindo e por isso não a obtive. Carreguei com sacos e com dores nas costas e nos pés. Ontem foi dia de &lt;em&gt;(I)MORTAL &lt;/em&gt;na Reitoria da UL. No salão nobre. As "minhas pessoas" foram. Quase todas. Foi um bocado um parto difícil devido à gripe mas lá se fez e as pessoas gostaram e eu tb e o pianista tocou muitíssimo bem.&lt;br /&gt;Bem hajam.&lt;br /&gt;besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-6425128353603655955?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/6425128353603655955/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=6425128353603655955' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/6425128353603655955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/6425128353603655955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/10/agora-sim.html' title='Agora sim'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-2431708252419818812</id><published>2007-10-19T15:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-19T15:12:57.684-07:00</updated><title type='text'>este era para ter sido dia 8</title><content type='html'>de outubro. Bem entendido.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hoje fiz anos e decidi ir actualizar a minha página. Mas só actualizei o CV. As fotos népias. Depois o farei. Ah que prazer/o não cumprir um dever - F. Pessoa&lt;br /&gt;Besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-2431708252419818812?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/2431708252419818812/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=2431708252419818812' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/2431708252419818812'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/2431708252419818812'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/10/este-era-para-ter-sido-dia-8.html' title='este era para ter sido dia 8'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-3633794078113137289</id><published>2007-10-19T15:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-19T15:11:06.623-07:00</updated><title type='text'>blog errado</title><content type='html'>Tinha postado noutro blog errado este texto de 1 de outubro.&lt;br /&gt;"Jaquinzinhos" com Açorda Hoje foi dia de jaquinzinhos com Açorda. Anco com estes apetites. O que é que se vai fazer? Ainda para mais tive febre durante a noite e de dia estava um desastre. Enfim. Ontem vi o "Labirinto do fauno". Vejam. É um must.Hoje os jaquins cheiram levemente a um outono que se quer promissor. De ânimo pelo menos.O ânimo anda arredio.A vontade é muita mas teórica.Que se passa humanidade?Ou natureza.Besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-3633794078113137289?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/3633794078113137289/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=3633794078113137289' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/3633794078113137289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/3633794078113137289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/10/blog-errado.html' title='blog errado'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-852665215378908561</id><published>2007-09-30T13:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-30T13:58:20.533-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cozido</title><content type='html'>Hoje fiz cozido à Portuguesa. Andava a apetecer-me um cozido há imenso tempo. Mas é daquelas coisas que não se cozinham apenas para uma pessoa. Achava eu. Hoje decidi abandonar isso e peguei e fui comprar as coisas. Fiz cozido para uma pessoa e meia porque só para uma nunca dá para fazer. Enfim. Coisas de se viver sozinho. tenho que arranjar um cão. Sempre comia um bocado do cozido :-).&lt;br /&gt;Bem, a coisa não está famosa. As inscrições no curso do Cartaxo estão fracas e o trabalho de actor contratado escasseia. Neste sentido, comçeo a ficar ansioso com as questões financeiras. Até porque há renda para pagar. Assim sendo, peço, paguem o que me devem. Os das prestações. os das não prestações. Enfim. As pessoas que sabem quem são.&lt;br /&gt;Vou comer o Cozido. saíu muito mais barato do que na rua :0).&lt;br /&gt;Besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-852665215378908561?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/852665215378908561/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=852665215378908561' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/852665215378908561'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/852665215378908561'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/09/cozido.html' title='Cozido'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-1196835545398582576</id><published>2007-09-25T16:03:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-25T16:19:31.706-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Acordar</title><content type='html'>Acordar nem sempre é bom. Não quer dizer que seja mau. Às vezes é só um acto mecânico. Tudo tem uma espécie de sabor a nada e a "tens que". É uma circunstância. Há várias coisas que me sabem a um eterno "longing for".  Sabores de uma infância interrompida a correr pela guerra do ultramar e que hoje me apetecia retomar num copo de leite com café servido pela manhã com um papo seco com manteiga e um som de uma voz que insistisse em não me deixar sozinho. Num lago com patos que salpicavam marotamente a água abanando as penas molhadas e cujos salpicos teimavam em vir parar à minha boca para logo a seguir lhe passar com a mão num acto de rejeição que hoje me parece infeliz. Num tacho ao fim de três horas de polpa de tomate e açúcar para uma compota batida e a saber a caseiro. Sabores de quando não se está só. Porque raio se fica só? Talvez por se passar a vida a pensar em independência e nunca em interdependência. Hoje sei, sinto, que vou estar sempre a ansiar pela alma gémea que me dará a canja no momento em que febril a não possa trazer à boca porque a minha criação deu-me o espírito da sobrevivência e da independência e nelas isso não cabe. A minha família nasceu para não o ser. Logo, em mim, tudo isso se traduz no mesmo resultado. E é engraçado: sempre considerei a família a pior das maldições. E eis-me a braços com saudades da família que nunca chegou a ser o que eu desisti que ela fosse. &lt;em&gt;Mea Culpa. &lt;/em&gt;Ou não. Mas uma relação analisada e possível. Espero que se possa ainda estar a tempo de remediar o não gosto com o gosto :-).&lt;br /&gt;Ah, entretanto subi na vida. Andava a dormir, há um ano, ao nível do chão, sobre um colchão futon em cima de um estrado fino. Ontem, finalmente, mudei a disposição da sala e coloquei o estrado do sofá no quarto (subi uns centímetros) mantendo o futon e coloquei o estardo do futon na sala passando a sofá :-). Espppppppeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrtttttttttttttoooooooooooo ;-) eheheeh.&lt;br /&gt;Bem, piadolas à parte, durmo melhor e como é raro sentar-me no sofá sempre dou mais uso ao investimento. Mesmo assim continuo à espera de alguma coisa que me satisfaça para além destas questões do quotidiano. E continuo à espera de trabalho. Muito, bom e bem pago. Isso é o que me motiva e onde encontro forças para me redimir de ter matado (sim, ter matado e não ter morto) a minha própria esperança de família.&lt;br /&gt;Besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-1196835545398582576?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/1196835545398582576/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=1196835545398582576' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/1196835545398582576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/1196835545398582576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/09/acordar.html' title='Acordar'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-8385799563189634930</id><published>2007-09-23T15:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-23T15:36:59.516-07:00</updated><title type='text'>blog ou não blog?</title><content type='html'>O que é um blog? Um blog é uma espécie de caderno de apontamentos onde as ideias ficam registadas e os sentimentos e as emoções e os pareceres e as impressões. Um blog não é uma carta ao presidente nem um tabefe à sociedade. É apenas um cofre de mais ou menos segredos, mais ou menos exposições, mais ou menos verdades. Por isso, se alguém alguma vez quiser usar os depoimentos de alguém num qualquer blog desse alguém para denegrir sujeita-se a ser processado por difamação uma vez que o blog também é um espaço artístico e de mera ficção. Estando este ponto entendido falarei então. Estou muito impressionado com o desespero do Pedro Alpiarça. Desespero de quem, apesar de ser património artístico e cultural, não conseguiu que a solidão que sentia fosse colmatada. Nenhum de nós, artistas desta praça, está imune a esse avanço para a ceifeira de um momento para o outro e antes do momento que, quiçá, deveria ser o tal momento. Neste e noutros países da arte capitalazada e embelezada como &lt;em&gt;sine qua non&lt;/em&gt; onde não interessa se se é bom actor mas se se é bonito, se se é bom bailarino/a mas se se é feio/a, se é bom cantor/a mas se se é bem parecido/a e vendável, é muito rápido e eficaz o esmorecer até à míngua de quem, por amor à autenticidade, optou por veicular impressões e manifestar ou delatar os erros do modelo instituído.&lt;br /&gt;Paz ao Pedro e continuo a esperar que o desconforto de quem manipula neste momento as artes se transforme em lucidez e impeça que tudo caminhe no sentido da ruína.&lt;br /&gt;Besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-8385799563189634930?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/8385799563189634930/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=8385799563189634930' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/8385799563189634930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/8385799563189634930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/09/blog-ou-no-blog.html' title='blog ou não blog?'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-3593462054964304270</id><published>2007-08-29T08:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-29T08:40:18.546-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Weed e L Word</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RtWQd8tylSI/AAAAAAAAAEE/snRyXQyYF2o/s1600-h/LWord.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5104144596883117346" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RtWQd8tylSI/AAAAAAAAAEE/snRyXQyYF2o/s320/LWord.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RtWQectylTI/AAAAAAAAAEM/KqD__FlU1uM/s1600-h/weedsreuters.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5104144605473051954" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RtWQectylTI/AAAAAAAAAEM/KqD__FlU1uM/s320/weedsreuters.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Há algum tempo que ando para escrever sobre estas duas séries. As únicas que valem de facto a pena ver. L Word faz parte da minha vida há um ano. Comecei a vê-la estava eu no Porto a encenar uma peça para a Seiva Trupe. Nessa altura dava todos os dias para que a segunda série começasse. Agora dá todas as terças feiras feiras a segunda série. A 3ª série deve começar em Outubro. É na dois. Tal como Weed, que começou este verão, em Agosto, com Marie-Louise Parker num dos seus melhores papéis. Esta dá à segunda feira mas mais cedo que a L Word. Por volta das 22.30 começa e são dois episódios. Calculo que seja também para podermos começar a ver a segunda série já na nova grelha pois no resto do mundo já vai por aí.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ambas tratam de situações que não participam do comezinho das 9 às 5. Podiam cair em lugares comuns mas o texto e as interpretações bem como a direcção transforma estas duas séries em produtos de culto.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Vale a pena ver elencos tão bons. E quem viu "Angels in America" vai adorar rever os actores em Weed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Besos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-3593462054964304270?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/3593462054964304270/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=3593462054964304270' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/3593462054964304270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/3593462054964304270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/08/weed-e-l-word.html' title='Weed e L Word'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RtWQd8tylSI/AAAAAAAAAEE/snRyXQyYF2o/s72-c/LWord.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-382644298106777439</id><published>2007-08-04T10:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-04T11:15:31.285-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Os Gregos e o workshop</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RrS_NZwUM1I/AAAAAAAAAD0/GROJwupT95o/s1600-h/choephorae.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5094907315435615058" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RrS_NZwUM1I/AAAAAAAAAD0/GROJwupT95o/s320/choephorae.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Acabou hoej mais um workshop sobre O Método com Marcia Haufrecht. Foi muito bom (re)trabalhar os gregos. Toda a gente se revelou mais ligada ao lado humano daquelas personagens (continua a irritar-me quando dizem "aqueles personagens" tal como me irrita a confusão que fazem entre o passado e o infinto ou o presente nos tempos verbais em inglês (principalmente com o auxiliar "did" - mas também estou a ficar mais velho e menos paciente, claro). Adiante. Tinha trabalhado os clássicos gregos na ESTC mas nunca com esta camada humana. Foi sublime (como, aliás, é característico dos gregos, onde nasceram os termos: o trágico/ o belo/ o sublime). Trabalhei depois com os meus alunos &lt;em&gt;Medeia&lt;/em&gt; de onde nasceu a peça que escrevi e dirigi &lt;em&gt;Feridas.&lt;/em&gt; Mas é tão bom ver todos os elementos (eu incluído) a imprimir autenticidade e veracidade às personagens e ver o sofrimento &lt;em&gt;humano&lt;/em&gt; das mesmas quando o elemento trágico surge. É belo. Eu estava duvidoso em relação à peça que ia trabalhar (&lt;em&gt;Lisístrata&lt;/em&gt;) por ser uma comédia de Aristófanes onde o lado burlesco é mais impresso mas o resultado foi de um teatro bom, auténtico e, sobretudo, isento de estereótipos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Só tenho pena que, no final, se esteja a perder, cada vez mais, o convívio do jantar com o grupo e com a Marcia pois, para mim, só aí termina o workshop. Este ano a própria Marcia esqueceu-se o que levou um grande número a dispersar-se e a não ir também. É pena, deixa um sabor amargo para quem, como eu, passou a semana a trabalhar para o workshop sem poder saborear a companhia dos elementos uma vez que havia sempre trabalho para o dia seguinte e eu sou o organizador/coordenador/assistente) do curso. Gostava de estar com eles hoje e conversar sobre o que sentiram. Além de que, amanhã, é domingo. Um dia chato em que não se faz nada e a solidão abate-se bem e melhor sobre quem, como eu, vive cada vez mais sozinho. Mas talvez seja um dos elementos trágicos dos gregos que já tinham percebido que o ser humano, tal como o bode, termina sempre sozinho e por isso solta um lamento ou cântico. O cântico do bode /traghos, de onde vem o termo tragédia/tragoedia. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bem hajam&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Besos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-382644298106777439?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/382644298106777439/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=382644298106777439' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/382644298106777439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/382644298106777439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/08/os-gregos-e-o-workshop.html' title='Os Gregos e o workshop'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RrS_NZwUM1I/AAAAAAAAAD0/GROJwupT95o/s72-c/choephorae.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-9047134126965359628</id><published>2007-07-15T11:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-15T11:18:11.871-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Finito</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/Rppkz8XuAaI/AAAAAAAAADs/3gjsj3JSqgw/s1600-h/Calvin2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087489572610113954" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/Rppkz8XuAaI/AAAAAAAAADs/3gjsj3JSqgw/s320/Calvin2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ontem foi o último espectáculo do "Perversões Lusas" no Trindade. Engraçado como, algumas pessoas, insistem em ver um espectáculo burlesco/vaudeville como se fosse um espectáculo que participasse das características do sublime e do belo da tragédia ou do rigor da Alta comédia. Não há pachorra. Ou então há pessoas que não gostam mesmo de se divertirem na vida. Ainda bem que há muitas outras que fazem o oposto.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Um conselho: rejam-se pelo tipo de espaço para não fazerem má fiura&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;1 - Sala grande ou principal - geralmente vocacionada para espectáculos ditos "sérios" mesmo que sejam para rir. Espaço para o formato convencional.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;2 - Black box ou sala Estúdio - geralmente vocacionada para o experimentalismo ou alternativo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;3 - Teatro Bar ou Café Teatro - geralmente vocacionado para a risota e ridicularização de tudo o que se faz nos espaços acima referidos ou na vida.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Assim não têm que se enganar. Ou seja, se não gostam de rir, nunca vão ao Teatro Bar porque vão sofrer.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Besos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;PS: acho que vou criar um blog de recensão literária e deixar-me de tentar dar a este povo coisas para &lt;u&gt;&lt;em&gt;amuser la bouche.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-9047134126965359628?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/9047134126965359628/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=9047134126965359628' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/9047134126965359628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/9047134126965359628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/07/finito.html' title='Finito'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/Rppkz8XuAaI/AAAAAAAAADs/3gjsj3JSqgw/s72-c/Calvin2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-2871065766995527205</id><published>2007-07-03T18:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-03T18:19:18.585-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Perversões Lusas</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/Ror1aRQYCoI/AAAAAAAAADc/8-U5gPqQ27Y/s1600-h/preversoes%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083144961098517122" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/Ror1aRQYCoI/AAAAAAAAADc/8-U5gPqQ27Y/s320/preversoes%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Olá, estou a fazer as "Perversões Lusas" e a pensar em mudar de casa para uma assoalhada ampla e banheira. Quem souber de algo assim diga. O espectáculo é de quinta a sábado às 23 h no Teatro da Trindade. Não tem tido muito público mas tem havido sempre. Meia sala mais ou menos. Já agora, se alguém souber onde se pode comprar magia da vida também agradeço.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Antigamente fumava cigarros e a coisa dava-se mas como já não fumo fico à toa.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Besos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-2871065766995527205?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/2871065766995527205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=2871065766995527205' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/2871065766995527205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/2871065766995527205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/07/perverses-lusas.html' title='Perversões Lusas'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/Ror1aRQYCoI/AAAAAAAAADc/8-U5gPqQ27Y/s72-c/preversoes%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-2069401408169362670</id><published>2007-06-05T19:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-05T19:29:07.210-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Foi bom!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RmYb1sjyRRI/AAAAAAAAADU/VCacl5j14Wo/s1600-h/`f+Â¦ria.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5072772639587714322" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RmYb1sjyRRI/AAAAAAAAADU/VCacl5j14Wo/s320/%60f%2B%C2%A6ria.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Estou a fazer a "Fúria" com as pessoas que neste momento partilham a minha vida: os grupos do Cartaxo e do Chapitô. Tem sido lindo. Hoje até me desfiz em lágrimas. No Chapitô tenho um aluno com trissomia 21. Ele está fantástico. Tudo funciona e somos capazes de tudo desde que acreditem em nós. É essa a lição deste miúdo de 18 anos. A dedicação.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Só tenho pena que coisas tenham mudado na minha vida. Coisas que me fazem, por vezes, ficar triste e melancólico. Mas estes momentos têm que ser partilhados de coração aberto.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Obrigado a todos/as.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Besos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-2069401408169362670?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/2069401408169362670/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=2069401408169362670' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/2069401408169362670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/2069401408169362670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/06/foi-bom.html' title='Foi bom!'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RmYb1sjyRRI/AAAAAAAAADU/VCacl5j14Wo/s72-c/%60f%2B%C2%A6ria.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-1671178296704147610</id><published>2007-05-15T03:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-15T03:34:49.881-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Apreensivo</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RkmMkQddVtI/AAAAAAAAADM/D1UfwHddD_Y/s1600-h/raio.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5064733810476537554" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RkmMkQddVtI/AAAAAAAAADM/D1UfwHddD_Y/s320/raio.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Estou apreensivo em relação ao futuro. Portugal trata mal as pessoas e continuará a tratar mal as pessoas. Não Portugal, mas os portugueses. Ainda para mais, tenho recebido pedidos de ajuda de actores e pessoas que, a priori, deviam estar em melhor condição que eu. O que será que vai acontecer? O que nos reserva o Futuro? Eu sempre achei que o Futuro estava nas nossas mãos mas hoje não sei não. Com tudo isto, já foram duas vezes este mês que fumei dois cigarros. Eu não quero voltar a fumar. Merda!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Enfim.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Besos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-1671178296704147610?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/1671178296704147610/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=1671178296704147610' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/1671178296704147610'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/1671178296704147610'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/05/apreensivo.html' title='Apreensivo'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RkmMkQddVtI/AAAAAAAAADM/D1UfwHddD_Y/s72-c/raio.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-9138443859143746221</id><published>2007-05-09T16:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-09T16:45:02.134-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pois..</title><content type='html'>Ainda a vida. A vida é estranha. Ou eu sou estranho. Vou começar então a olhar para mim e não para os outros. Que giro, as pessoas têm a mania que são superdetentoras de regras e poderes, mas vão abaixo, como os outros. Vou olhar para mim e mais nada. Apenas para mim. Só isso. Espectáculo, em Portugal, não é o que devia ser. Não é entrega.&lt;br /&gt;É pena, mas não é.&lt;br /&gt;Desliguem os telefones bébés. Vocês não sabem da vida a metade :-))&lt;br /&gt;Here I am.&lt;br /&gt;Besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-9138443859143746221?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/9138443859143746221/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=9138443859143746221' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/9138443859143746221'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/9138443859143746221'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/05/pois.html' title='Pois..'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-5385284210705499949</id><published>2007-05-05T08:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-05T08:39:10.722-07:00</updated><title type='text'>--- Vida---</title><content type='html'>Puta de vida, a do teatro. Porquê que nasci assim? Sempre fui um homem de teatro. Sempre. Estou farto. Tira-nos da vida. Porquê que não sou um gestor que ganha 3000 euros por mês e vai ter uma reforma? Porquê que não tenho uma casa na praia para o fim de semana? Porquê que o meu pai veio para Portugal na guerra colonial e não para o Brasil ou para o Canadá ou USA? Porquê? Porquê? É raro apaixonar-me porque o teatro não me dá tempo. Estou sempre a pensar. E depois as pessoas são amadoras em Portugal, i.e., tratam o teatro como tratam os amantes. A atenção necessária, apenas, e não a especial. Porquê que demoro tanto a apaixonar-me? E porquê que sou tímido a ponto de não tomar iniciativa quando me apaixono? E porquê que ainda estou apiaxonado por quem já não me quer? E porquê? Porquê? Porquê? Porque se não fosse o teatro estaria louco. Ou mais louco. Puta de vida.&lt;br /&gt;Besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-5385284210705499949?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/5385284210705499949/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=5385284210705499949' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/5385284210705499949'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/5385284210705499949'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/05/vida.html' title='--- Vida---'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-4463333251008247611</id><published>2007-05-03T18:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-05T08:33:20.230-07:00</updated><title type='text'>É isso...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RjqN5QddVrI/AAAAAAAAAC8/krTF1R3-mvE/s1600-h/Desert+Landscape.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5060513146114758322" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RjqN5QddVrI/AAAAAAAAAC8/krTF1R3-mvE/s320/Desert+Landscape.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;É chato chegar a casa e não ter ninguém para nos receber... principalmente depois de se ter tido durante vários bons momentos alguém especial a receber-nos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Besos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-4463333251008247611?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/4463333251008247611/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=4463333251008247611' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/4463333251008247611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/4463333251008247611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/05/isso.html' title='É isso...'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RjqN5QddVrI/AAAAAAAAAC8/krTF1R3-mvE/s72-c/Desert+Landscape.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-3977518591675213490</id><published>2007-04-30T09:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-30T10:06:14.958-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Some times...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RjYh6AddVqI/AAAAAAAAAC0/mdT_LTELCLM/s1600-h/hidden_truth.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5059268511837017762" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RjYh6AddVqI/AAAAAAAAAC0/mdT_LTELCLM/s320/hidden_truth.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Há alturas em que, por mais que se queira, é difícil pensar que estamos isentos de má energia. Corria tudo bem. De repente assaltarma-me a casa e levaram o portátil e o tlm. Mas mesmo assim tudo corria bem. Até que a ir para o Cartaxo o carro aqueceu. Mas tudo corria bem. Pus água e regressei a Lisboa e tudo correu bem. Fui de novo para o Cartaxo na quinta feira e o carro aqueceu. Mas tudo corria bem. Pus água. Regressei a Lisboa e o carro aqueceu muito e tive que parar na autoestrada. De manhã fui levar o carro à oficina. Ficou lá, o carro. Que aqueceu. Liguei à tarde. A cabeça da junta estava queimada. Tinha que ser substituída. Porque aqueceu. Mas tudo corria bem!!! Porquê que aqueceu? Estou sem carro. Não pude sair o fim de semana porque não tinha carro. Também não tive ninguém a ligar-me. Hoje tornei a ligar para a oficina. Ainda não está pronto o carro. O que aqueceu. Nem se sabe em quanto vai ficar. Dizem que não é muito mas eu não acredito. Pois se aqueceu e tudo aqueceu na minha vida e ainda por cima no mau sentido. Continuo à espera de luzes. Na vida. A casa, que tanto gostava, perdeu a piada desde que cá entraram enquanto eu tomava banho. O vazio teima em voltar. Não quero. Não o quero. Ao vazio. Nem aquecido. Tenho que arranjar água fresca para que a minha vida toda não aqueça. Hoje enviei sms's a &lt;a href="mailto:amig@s"&gt;amig@s&lt;/a&gt; para jantar. Ninguém pode. Irei sozinho. Com um livro. E depois... depois é esperar que nada aqueça...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Besos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-3977518591675213490?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/3977518591675213490/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=3977518591675213490' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/3977518591675213490'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/3977518591675213490'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/04/some-times.html' title='Some times...'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RjYh6AddVqI/AAAAAAAAAC0/mdT_LTELCLM/s72-c/hidden_truth.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-1985286645512195998</id><published>2007-04-26T16:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-26T16:47:18.505-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Memórias de algodão doce</title><content type='html'>Na sala Estúdio do Teatro da Trindade. Infelizmente não tenho imagem para fixar. É lindo. Um espectáculo cómico e mágico. A não perder. Até dia 6 de Maio. Um elenco excelente para uma encenação brilhante. O elenco masculino é fortíssimo e bem acompanhado pelo elenco feminino. Divirtam-se com teatro em português de quarta a domingo às 22 horas (domingo é às 17h).&lt;br /&gt;Besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-1985286645512195998?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/1985286645512195998/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=1985286645512195998' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/1985286645512195998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/1985286645512195998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/04/memrias-de-algodo-doce.html' title='Memórias de algodão doce'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-5467608883366890686</id><published>2007-04-22T17:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-22T17:38:31.563-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Olá.</title><content type='html'>Tão estranha a vida. O espectáculo no Cartaxo, o &lt;em&gt;(I)MORTAL, &lt;/em&gt;correu bem e as pessoas gostaram. A homenagem ao Marcelino Mesquita correu lindamente. A minha entrega é tão grande que, depois de acabar, fico sempre com "ressaca" emocional por ter síndrome de solidão e saudades do carinho com que os actores/alunos me brindam. É tão pesado... ainda bem que fiz o tratamento ayurvédico em Montréal. Reajo melhor e estou tão feliz com avida. Eu amo a vida :-)))&lt;br /&gt;besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-5467608883366890686?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/5467608883366890686/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=5467608883366890686' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/5467608883366890686'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/5467608883366890686'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/04/ol.html' title='Olá.'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-3203777747166330574</id><published>2007-04-17T16:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-17T16:30:06.787-07:00</updated><title type='text'>UFFFF.....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RiVYXXZ2hLI/AAAAAAAAACk/7iFp-F-fjOg/s1600-h/Bruno+Schiappa+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5054543315235931314" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RiVYXXZ2hLI/AAAAAAAAACk/7iFp-F-fjOg/s320/Bruno+Schiappa+2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RiVYKnZ2hKI/AAAAAAAAACc/PzSOnSWGAfE/s1600-h/Bruno+Schiappa+3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5054543096192599202" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RiVYKnZ2hKI/AAAAAAAAACc/PzSOnSWGAfE/s320/Bruno+Schiappa+3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bem, eu dizia ha uns dias: back to life back to reality. Pois bem, ontem por volta das 17 horas arrumei a casa e enviei uns emails recolocando o laptop no escritório. Fui tomar um duche e lembrei-me (durante o dito) que algo tinha ficado por dizer. Quando sai do banho fui enviar novo email mas nao tinha o portatil no escritorio. Pensei que estava doido e que o tinha posto na sala. Fui a sala e nada. Regressei ao escritorio e todas as ligacoes USB estavam desligadas assim como o comutador electrico. Tinha sido ROUBADO em pleno duche. A janela do escritorio, que da pa varios telhados, estava aberta e entraram por ai. Fui a sala para ligar para a policia atraves do tlm que estava a carregar e tinha sido ROUBADO. Cheguei ao Chapito e tinha uma mensagem da policia a dizer que a minha carteira estava la. Eu nem tinha dado por falta dessa carteira que estava em cima da mesa. Estou com um portatil do meu sobrinho que tem teclado alemao sem acentos e com um n. provisorio. Para chatear o para lamas do carro caiu. LIFE SUCKS SOMETIMES. Mas estou bem disposto. Cansado mas bem disposto. Estarei louco?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Besos &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-3203777747166330574?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/3203777747166330574/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=3203777747166330574' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/3203777747166330574'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/3203777747166330574'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/04/uffff.html' title='UFFFF.....'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RiVYXXZ2hLI/AAAAAAAAACk/7iFp-F-fjOg/s72-c/Bruno+Schiappa+2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-2958459722757930798</id><published>2007-04-12T06:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-12T06:18:03.417-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bolas, bolas...</title><content type='html'>Pois, que chatice, tenho saudades de Montréal e nem calculam porquê. é certo que, nesta altura do ano, a cidade élinda e as pessoas são muito bonitas mas aqui também as pessoas (as que me rodeiam pelo menos) são muito bonitas. A arte não é tão válida para os portugueses como para os "quebers" (nome pelo qual os anglófonos tratam os quebequois e que soa um bocado pipocante, mas enfim), uma vez que, como povo emotivo e solidário que são, o sublime é necessa´rio. Mas também não é por aí. Tenho saudades incríveis do pão belga, do souvlaki e tzantziki, dos tostitos e de todas as comidas que se podem adquirir nos supermercados normais uma vez que a cidade é um melting pot à séria e que toda a gente gosta de comida universal. Cá, fui ao super e só há comida da nossa. Adoro a nossa comida mas gosto tanto das comidas do mundo. Schuif Schuif :0)))&lt;br /&gt;Enfim, maluqices de puto. É verdade, hoje sinto-me um puto :0)&lt;br /&gt;Yá ba dá ba du ziiiii&lt;br /&gt;eheheh&lt;br /&gt;Besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-2958459722757930798?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/2958459722757930798/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=2958459722757930798' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/2958459722757930798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/2958459722757930798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/04/bolas-bolas.html' title='Bolas, bolas...'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-8557186370591654726</id><published>2007-04-05T09:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-05T10:02:36.180-07:00</updated><title type='text'>La vie en Rose</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RhUrLlEJ1GI/AAAAAAAAACU/gJficJcPCGg/s1600-h/la+vie+en+rose.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5049990035093967970" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RhUrLlEJ1GI/AAAAAAAAACU/gJficJcPCGg/s320/la+vie+en+rose.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ontem vi o filme "La Vie En Rose", uma bela biografia de Edith Piaff. Ficamos a conhecer mais de perto a vida desta mulher trágica. Uma história comovente e bela que associa o sucesso à amargura mais desenfreada. Uma mulher solitária que tinha mais medo da solidão do que da morte. A actriz faz uma composição magnífica e que cinematografia excelente. Se passar em Portugal não percam.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Besos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#3333ff;"&gt;Marion Cotillard interprète la chanteuse Edith Piaf dans le film "'La vie en rose." (AP Photo/Michael Sohn)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-8557186370591654726?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/8557186370591654726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=8557186370591654726' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/8557186370591654726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/8557186370591654726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/04/la-vie-en-rose.html' title='La vie en Rose'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RhUrLlEJ1GI/AAAAAAAAACU/gJficJcPCGg/s72-c/la+vie+en+rose.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-7872052310078212476</id><published>2007-04-05T09:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-05T09:55:10.669-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Neve</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RhUpuFEJ1FI/AAAAAAAAACM/PW21CCjxjNY/s1600-h/rechts.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5049988428776199250" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RhUpuFEJ1FI/AAAAAAAAACM/PW21CCjxjNY/s320/rechts.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Depois de uma semana de sol e uns dias de chuva eis que cai uma tempestade de neve hoje em Montréal. E não é que achei lindo????!!! Eu???!!! Que odiava a neve??? Ehehehhe, quando a depressão começa a passar é lindo :0))&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Besos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-7872052310078212476?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/7872052310078212476/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=7872052310078212476' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/7872052310078212476'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/7872052310078212476'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/04/neve.html' title='Neve'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RhUpuFEJ1FI/AAAAAAAAACM/PW21CCjxjNY/s72-c/rechts.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-5615499252018237164</id><published>2007-04-05T09:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-05T09:49:29.903-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Good stuff...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RhUoblEJ1CI/AAAAAAAAAB0/8R3hY-7lIlU/s1600-h/eu+e+a+Anderson.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5049987011436991522" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RhUoblEJ1CI/AAAAAAAAAB0/8R3hY-7lIlU/s320/eu+e+a+Anderson.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RhUob1EJ1DI/AAAAAAAAAB8/vJlWIlpLDh0/s1600-h/Eu+e+a+Baez.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5049987015731958834" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RhUob1EJ1DI/AAAAAAAAAB8/vJlWIlpLDh0/s320/Eu+e+a+Baez.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RhUocFEJ1EI/AAAAAAAAACE/Nl21RqbiOEo/s1600-h/eu+e+a+Hupert.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5049987020026926146" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RhUocFEJ1EI/AAAAAAAAACE/Nl21RqbiOEo/s320/eu+e+a+Hupert.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Por vezes, se olharmos bem, vemos que temos coisas muito boas no nosso percurso. Sempre fui de admirar pessoas e percursos em vez de ficar a remoer porque não eu. Sempre quis fazer coisas, é certo, em vez de pensar que nunca iria conseguir achei sempre que nada é impossível, pois se já houve um Papa português porquê que eu não me conseguiria internacionalizar? Ao contrário de muita gente, incluíndo pessoas do secundário que achavam que "ele não vai conseguir" porque nunca acreditaram nelas, eu sempre acreditei em mim, e vou continuar a acreditar, mesmo apesar de terem feito por me reduzir ou desacreditar. O facto é que, em 2003, actuei no mesmo espaço que a Joan Baez e nesta semana actuei no mesmo espaço que a Isabelle Hupert e a Laurie Anderson, e com um papel de protagonista, o que quer dizer que, aqui, no Canadá, ninguém me vê como "menos capaz" que ninguém e atéme entusiasmam dando a entender que tenho algo acima da média. Desculpem o desabafo com alguma ressonância egocêntrica mas estava a precisar. O tratamento Ayurvédico ajudou a iniciar a recuperação da minha autoestima e agora vou procurar estar ainda mais forte do que quando me desacreditei. Isto se Portugal não insistir em remeter-me para uma gaveta ou desvalorizar o que faço, porque aí não posso fazer nada.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mas claro, contra lobbys e invejas agudas não há nada a fazer.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ficam aqui as fotografias.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Besos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-5615499252018237164?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/5615499252018237164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=5615499252018237164' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/5615499252018237164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/5615499252018237164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/04/good-stuff.html' title='Good stuff...'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RhUoblEJ1CI/AAAAAAAAAB0/8R3hY-7lIlU/s72-c/eu+e+a+Anderson.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-1302480406471437282</id><published>2007-04-03T11:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-03T11:58:05.483-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Moving On</title><content type='html'>A semana está calma. Curiosamente, em vez de me pôr a andar de um lado para o outro, como seria de esperar para passar o tempo, fico sentado, a relaxar, ou a ler, ou a ver televisão. Sempre com pot. Ontem lá fiz o tratamento ayurvédico da ciência Ayurveda. Sou Kapha. Quem quiser que vá ver o que é porque não me vou pôr aqui a explicar. A shigocharma fez-me muito bem de facto. Saí leve como uma alface e fresco como uma pluma. Ou seja, saí de lá a pensar em muita coisa, mesmo. A principal coisa que me fez bem foi perceber que, ao contrário de outras pessoas que por vezes nos parecem estar melhor, eu evoluí. Ou seja, eu não fiquei igual nem me alimentei de nada para me manter. Evoluí. Mudei. O amor entrou há sete anos, deixei de ficar sobrecarregado com a ideia da profissão. Entreguei-me a outras coisas. Vivi. Deixei de fumar. Fiz o Mestrado. Viajei. Deixei de me envenenar para cuidar da família. Cuidei de mim e dos outros. Descobri os chakras e os prana. Partilhei amor e saúde. Chorei quando ear para chorar, ri quando era para rir e não fiquei preso a ter que ser antes de tudo um cidadão com profissão para me sentir bem. Isto é fantástico quando se percebe. Eu mudei, evoluí, abri os braços ao mundo e mudei, muito, tnato que me assustou de repente ficar sem o meu mundinho recente e já não ter o antigo. Mas posso ter coisas boas do antigo,como dançar, cantar, sapatear, sem ter que estar preso a um presente que afinal só me fez bem mas que não pode manter-se porque há pessoas nele que ainda precisam de ficar presas á profissão e ao sexo para se sentirem pessoas.&lt;br /&gt;Tudo é bom, tudo faz falta, não estou a dizer o contrário, mas desde que não deixemos de ser nós para obter um reconhecimento seja a que nível for porque se o meu reconhecimento não vier de mim não vale a pena. E a vida é magia e sol e ciclo e amor e tudo se renova. É nisso que temos que pensar. E inspirar para ter inspiração :0) Viva a ciência Ayurveda.&lt;br /&gt;Besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-1302480406471437282?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/1302480406471437282/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=1302480406471437282' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/1302480406471437282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/1302480406471437282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/04/moving-on.html' title='Moving On'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-332090478169773022</id><published>2007-03-31T09:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-31T09:51:40.128-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Por aqui...</title><content type='html'>O tempo continua bom... todo o meu lado esquerdo está inflamado... o lado yin... o lado emocional... coxeio; dói-me o joelho esquerdo; o cotovelo esquerdo; a virilha esquerda e tenho o polegar esquerdo dormente constantemente. Tentei marcar uma massagem Ayurvédica, da ciência Ayurveda, mas a senhora não me atende o telefone.&lt;br /&gt;Todos os dias fumo um bocado de pot (misturado com tabaco de enrolar) para relaxar. De resto, tal como o Genet, para passar o tempo espero pela morte. Hoje é o último espectáculo.&lt;br /&gt;Besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-332090478169773022?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/332090478169773022/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=332090478169773022' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/332090478169773022'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/332090478169773022'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/03/por-aqui.html' title='Por aqui...'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-2261871079011635529</id><published>2007-03-30T09:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-30T09:50:58.598-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cá vamos</title><content type='html'>Ontem foi a "re-estreia" do "5 heures du Matin". Aqui as pessoas agradecem os espectáculos dizendo "merci" "c'etait super" "vous êtes magnifique" etc.&lt;br /&gt;É bom saber que, em algum lugar do mundo, o espectador ainda se sente bem com o artista e com o espectáculo.&lt;br /&gt;O tempo está bonzinho e dá para ver as cores das casas.&lt;br /&gt;Não tenho saído, apenas para os ensaios e espectáculos. Hoje vou voltar a ler para a escrita do "perversões lusas". Ando sem grande inspiração mas há de passar. Fiquei a saber que os meus alunos quer do Chapitô quer do Caratxo,em vez de aproveitarem para ensaiar, baldam-se. Por vezes pergunto-me muito a sério se vale a pena apostar na formação artística performativa.&lt;br /&gt;Enfim. Mas depois, quando se vê alguns resultados, tudo fica bem.&lt;br /&gt;Besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-2261871079011635529?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/2261871079011635529/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=2261871079011635529' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/2261871079011635529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/2261871079011635529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/03/c-vamos.html' title='Cá vamos'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-2133697613685075530</id><published>2007-03-24T08:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-24T08:05:17.019-07:00</updated><title type='text'>De novo em Montréal</title><content type='html'>Cá estou em Montréal para mais uma mão de espectáculos do "5 Heures du Matin". A cidade está bonita. É a primeira vez que chego em março, depois do início da primavera. Normalmente é sempre em Janeiro. Em pleno inverno e frio de rachar. A estadi vai ser muito curta porque são os 25 anos da companhia e está a fazer-se a Trilogie de La Terre que inclui "Babylone"(em que não participo) sobre o estado do mundo e onde uma senhora indiana cozinha uma refeição ao vivo durante a hora e vinte que dura o espectáculo multicultural; o "5 Heures du Matin" (no qual faço um psicoterapeuta) sobre o estado da humanidade; e o "Demain" (no qual não participo) sobre o futuro possível com as novas mentalidades que urgem emergir.&lt;br /&gt;A cidade fica ainda com mais cor assim, com sol, uma vez que as casas sãoà cores.&lt;br /&gt;É muito bonita. Eu podia viver cá. Não fosse a falta de coragem para me ausentar das "minhas gentes".&lt;br /&gt;besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-2133697613685075530?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/2133697613685075530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=2133697613685075530' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/2133697613685075530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/2133697613685075530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/03/de-novo-em-montral.html' title='De novo em Montréal'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-1328939117200192973</id><published>2007-03-14T19:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-14T20:06:30.905-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pequenos Crimes Conjugais</title><content type='html'>De Eric Schmidt. Um excelente texto entre o realismo e o ideal-realismo. Concretiza-se a ideia de que o amor mata sempre, ou um ou outro. Neste caso, ou se mata ou se é morto. Mas enaltece o amor. Uma comédia negra muito bem escrita numa época em que pouca gente se atreve a apostar numa relação duradoura com tudo o que ela implica de mau mas com aquilo que é infinitamente melhor: o conhecimento mútuo e o respirar o outro. A tal ponto que sufoca e onde "já nenhum pode existir separadamente". Como esta, o texto tem muitas frases nas quais reconhecemos ideais ou pensamentos que temos ou tivemos. Sobretudo as personagens estão muito bem criadas no texto de cada uma e, como diz o encenador, a encenação apoia-se nisso e nos actores. O texto é, sem dúvida, sacralizado. A encenação permite um jogo visível para os espectadores de ambos os lados do palco e não desvirtua nunca a possibilidade de nos "intimizar-mos" ou identificar-mos com aquelas personagens. O cenário é realista sem ser oponente nem ostensivo apesar de se apoiar totalmente no vermelho levando-nos a pensar imediatamente  na tríade paixão/ciúme/crime, mas é elegante e sem romper nunca com a intimidade que se pretende criar na atmosfera. Margarida Marinho é quase sublime na autenticidade apenas usando dois ou três estilismos que denunciam momentos de menos entrega mas que passam despercebidos a olhares menos clínicos enquanto que Paulo Pires se apoia muitas vezes em inúmeras "muletas" para apresentar Jaime. Mas este último não desvirtua em nada a personagem. A química entre os dois, nos momentos em que é necessária, existe e não podemos deixar de sentir algum calor nos beijos o que é sempre uma mais valia raramente vista no panorama nacional. O guarda roupa é bastante elegante (excepto o vestido que Margarida Marinho usa quando vão sair e que lhe retira toda a graça que tem físicamente) e resulta de acordo com a classe social das personagens.&lt;br /&gt;Um espectáculo que nos vem pela mão do Teatro Nacional Dona Maria II (que nos tem brindado com momentos glórios de programação) a não perder. Em cena até dia 1 de Abril.&lt;br /&gt;PS: Apressem-se porque tem estado sempre esgotado.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-1328939117200192973?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/1328939117200192973/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=1328939117200192973' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/1328939117200192973'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/1328939117200192973'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/03/pequenos-crimes-conjugais.html' title='Pequenos Crimes Conjugais'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-1137257092177704266</id><published>2007-03-08T07:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-03-08T07:40:40.921-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bolas</title><content type='html'>estive dois dias a chá - segunda e terça - e ontem dei cabo de tudo. Hoje estou horrívelmente chateado comigo. Ontem era 4ª, não devia ter exagerado. Mas foi por uma boa causa. O meu amigo Adriano Filipe lá apresentou ao vivo o trabalho musical dele (muito elogiado pelo Rodrigo Leão mas que andava no armário - quer dizer, nas aparelhagens dos amigos só). É bastante bom. Viaja-se a ouvi-lo. Tem-se sensações. O ano passado tinha usado para uma aula de teatro para a relaxação. Por isso também tive que celebrar e olha, deu no que deu :-).&lt;br /&gt;Besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-1137257092177704266?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/1137257092177704266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=1137257092177704266' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/1137257092177704266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/1137257092177704266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/03/bolas.html' title='Bolas'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-2869692731142311311</id><published>2007-03-07T08:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-03-07T09:03:25.332-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Assim sendo...</title><content type='html'>O &lt;em&gt;Frozen &lt;/em&gt;acabou no dia 4 de Março. Aparentemente irei regressar à prateleira, em Portugal, durante uns tempos, uma vez que é assim que as coisas fucnionam. Perdi o filme do Sandro Aguilar porque estou comprometido com os Pigeons para fazer alguns espectáculos no Canadá. Recebi uma mensagem telefónica a dizer que não tinha ficado para a personagem por isso. Mas também nem seque me disseram que género de personagem seria ou tentaram entusiasmar para eu ficar. De qualquer modo seria complicado nesta fase do campeonato estar a desmarcar os espectáculos porque eles teriam que arranjar em Montréal um actor que não se importasse de me substituir em tão pouco tempo.&lt;br /&gt;Continuo apreensivo porque já cá ando há muito tempo e as coisas continuam sem serem preparadas antes. Se eu soubesse antes que estava a ser escolhido para um filme se calhar teria reflectido Mas eu nem sequer sabia até há duas semanas. Para quando começar a preparar as coisas em Portugal com tempo?&lt;br /&gt;Enfim.&lt;br /&gt;:-(&lt;br /&gt;besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-2869692731142311311?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/2869692731142311311/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=2869692731142311311' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/2869692731142311311'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/2869692731142311311'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/03/assim-sendo.html' title='Assim sendo...'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-6717743065470896362</id><published>2007-02-25T15:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-25T15:06:40.591-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pois...</title><content type='html'>O &lt;em&gt;Frozen &lt;/em&gt;está na recta final. Acaba no domingo. Estou apreensivo porque ter as noites ocupadas ajudava-me a estar à tona apesar de ser muito desgastante.&lt;br /&gt;Não sei como vou suportar ou superar. Estou numa fase em que a solidão está muito cimentada. Vou precisar de todos os amigos que conseguir. O problema é que eles têm a vida deles. Tremo só de pensar. Eu que nunca tive medo de estar sozinho estou completamente aterrado :-(.&lt;br /&gt;Será que o Amor, tão importante para mim, ainda vai acontecer na minha vida?&lt;br /&gt;Besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-6717743065470896362?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/6717743065470896362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=6717743065470896362' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/6717743065470896362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/6717743065470896362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/02/pois.html' title='Pois...'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-2108842258074840541</id><published>2007-02-22T07:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-22T07:20:07.109-08:00</updated><title type='text'>MEMÓRIAS</title><content type='html'>As memórias são o maior paradoxo do ser humano. Muitas vezes preferíamos que elas não existissem mas sem elas não havia a noção de erro ou de sucesso. Elas são o nosso Passado e servem de lâmpada para o Futuro. Claro que, no Presente, elas podem traír-nos e não se transformarem em lembrança, o que potenciaria o seu papel balizador. Nessas alturas podemos incorrer nos mesmos erros. Mas eles saberão (de sabor) de novo como um néctar dos deuses. Um divino néctar que nos move e anima até à próxima derrocada, quando a dor ressurgir e nós pensarmos: Merda, esta parte já conheço.&lt;br /&gt;Mas foi a capacidade das Memórias de não se transformarem em lembrança (como um ficheiro que o windows não consegue abrir) que nos levou numa direcção com o mesmo género de fim. Nunca é o mesmo, claro, nem parecido, mas parece sempre tão semelhante. E, no entanto, enquanto caminhavamos para ele, parecia um néctar dos deuses. E é assim a vida. Feita de Memórias que estão e nos traem mas sem as quais não seríamos quem somos nem teríamos História. Provavelmente, quando elas não se trasnformam em lembranças, é porque estamos a precisar de abanar com o mesmo erro. Ou parecido. Se calhar estavamos a cristalizar demais e demasiado cedo!&lt;br /&gt;As Memórias são e serão sempre o que faz mover o mundo.&lt;br /&gt;Bem hajam.&lt;br /&gt;Besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-2108842258074840541?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/2108842258074840541/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=2108842258074840541' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/2108842258074840541'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/2108842258074840541'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/02/memrias.html' title='MEMÓRIAS'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-7313763581116035496</id><published>2007-02-21T06:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-21T06:50:44.404-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Frozen - final count down</title><content type='html'>Começa a contagem descrescente do &lt;em&gt;Frozen. &lt;/em&gt;Esta peça foi importante em vários sentidos:não só porque é boa de fazer e com uma compleição das personagens inusitada mas também porque me ajudou muito a superar as dores do momento que eram fortíssimas. Infelizmente toda a gente depositou demasiada expectativa que ela fosse marcar uma diferença. Desde a encenadora até aos actores. Eu, no fundo, com o meu karma de não sair do armário enquanto actor, estava um bocado céptico apesar de querer muito que acontecesse qualquer coisa profissional depois da mesma. Mas o país envolve muita coisa e o que sobressai é a mediocridade de nem sequer haver curiosidade por parte da crítica.&lt;br /&gt;Encenadores e produtores também não apareceram muitos. Realizadores foram 3 até ao momento. O curioso é que as pessoas que vão gostam. Quer dizer, quem não está à espera apenas de uma história e sim de material artístico gosta. Infelizmente as pessoas têm preconceitos em relação às pessoas. Infelizmente Portugal é amado pelos portugueses mas os portugueses não amam os portugueses.&lt;br /&gt;Pode ser que tudo mude ainda no decorrer destas duas semanas. Pode ser. Era bom. Se puderam vão ver. Estamos na sala estúdio do TNDMII de terça a sábado ás 21.45 e ao domingo às 16.15, até dia 4 de março.&lt;br /&gt;Besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-7313763581116035496?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/7313763581116035496/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=7313763581116035496' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/7313763581116035496'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/7313763581116035496'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/02/frozen-final-count-down.html' title='Frozen - final count down'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-744777143557922741</id><published>2007-02-17T09:12:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-17T09:14:51.831-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Amigos de Carnaval</title><content type='html'>"Os amigos, mal te vêem na miséria, voltam as costas e abalam a grande velocidade". Marcellino Mesquita &lt;em&gt;in&lt;/em&gt; "Dôr Suprema". Se a "miséria" não for só mas também financeira e se começar com uma dor de peito ou alma, também é verdade.&lt;br /&gt;Besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-744777143557922741?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/744777143557922741/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=744777143557922741' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/744777143557922741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/744777143557922741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/02/amigos-de-carnaval.html' title='Amigos de Carnaval'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-8516782745096326838</id><published>2007-02-17T09:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-17T09:12:08.867-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dor - um post de 6 de Fevereiro depois da Morte do meu "sobrinho"</title><content type='html'>Não escrevo pela vida e a dor individual. Neste momento choro a dor da minha sobrinha. Ela está aqui em casa, passa cá a noite, mas nada do que eu possa dizer ou fazer lhe arranca a dor do coração pela perda do namorado num fatídico acidente de automóvel. Não se tinham despedido bem. Andavam "chateados" e neste momento a dor dela uiva aos raios de luar para o trazerem de volta. Não posso dizer-lhe para não ligar para o tlm dele e ouvir a voz no atendedor porque sei que não vale a pena. A dor da perda é irreversível. Perde-se o abraço que fazia dormir sossegado ou aconchegado. Esse, quando se anuncia como sem retorno, faz perder o sentido a tudo. Como ela já mo disse. Nada vale a pena. Ir para casa não vale a pena. trabalhar não vale a pena. Com que pena ouço este desabafo pois se eu próprio sei o que é o coração a querer rasgar o peito para poder respirar e sem conseguir. Temo pela saúde dela. É certo que os amigos não a deixam mesmo sozinha. Conduzem-na. Deitam-na. percebem o quão frágil ela está. mas mesmo assim sei que a dor dela não consegue perceber que ele estava naquele maldito carro. ela quer que o tempo volte atrás. Quem me dera também que ele voltasse. Se não pudesse ser um ano e um mês atrás ao menos 3 dias. Assim eu dizia-lhe a ele: não vais a essa festa porque alguém vai ficar muito mal se te perder. Eu sei como é. É um sentimento que, quando se tem, dá-nos vida. os ingleses chamam: companionship.&lt;br /&gt;Beijos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-8516782745096326838?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/8516782745096326838/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=8516782745096326838' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/8516782745096326838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/8516782745096326838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/02/dor-um-post-de-6-de-fevereiro-depois-da.html' title='Dor - um post de 6 de Fevereiro depois da Morte do meu &quot;sobrinho&quot;'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-6203642561513001628</id><published>2007-02-02T20:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-02T20:58:12.945-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Castelos na areia</title><content type='html'>De repente olhas e não vês nada senão um vazio imenso. Sem dares por isso a vida parou e bloqueou. A casa no rio desapareceu. Os caracóis aos quais estendias os dedos, à noite, e te davam calma para adormeceres sem medo do futuro, não estão nem sabes se alguma vez voltarão a estar mas tens um palpiet que não. Estás sozinho. Tal como nasceste e vais morrer. a calma que te dava espaço para criar despareceu. Vanished. Kaput. O futuro risonho acores de azul e verde na casa projectada para a velhice já não faz sentido.&lt;br /&gt;O campo do coração está vazio e dói como se um punhal tivesse retirado esse orgão da felicidade mas não tivesse cicatrizado a ferida. Nada de quente. Nada de frio. Apenas dormência na alma, nas pálpebras, no sorriso gasto que não invade mais ninguém.&lt;br /&gt;Tentas sossegar com um livro mas as pálpebras pesam e oscilam as papilas. Nada. Apenas um enorme e imenso vazio.&lt;br /&gt;Já não sabes onde parou o teu passado. Tentas esquecê-lo excepto quando estás bêbedo.&lt;br /&gt;Maldito, rancoroso passado que te deu a provar uma embriaguez de felicidade que, de repente, saíu, rindo alto, macabra, gozando contigo, rindo de ti e da tua falta de lucidez.&lt;br /&gt;O riso ecoa fora e dentro da tua cabeça e sussurra para ti: "Todas as coisas que construímos, não são mais do que castelos na areia"!.&lt;br /&gt;besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-6203642561513001628?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/6203642561513001628/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=6203642561513001628' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/6203642561513001628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/6203642561513001628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/02/castelos-na-areia.html' title='Castelos na areia'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-9112292417892897042</id><published>2007-01-29T18:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-29T18:06:21.371-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Referendos, tsss tsss tsss</title><content type='html'>Hoje estive a ver o debate sobre o referendo e fiquei a saber qual é a diferença entre gravidez e vida???!!!???? Desculpem lá, pensei que soubesse mas afinal não . Pois, o debate deixou-me baralhado. Não sobre a questão da IVG mas sobre as faculdades mentais e a lucidez dos portugueses.&lt;br /&gt;Não percebo nada do que é suposto ser traduzível na RTP1. Achei que tudo se misturava e que até havia uma certa loucura aceite no debate. Pelo menos vi por esse lado positivo porque não quero pensar que se esteja nas mãos desta gente.&lt;br /&gt;De facto há coisas que devem ser bilaterais: separações, divórcios, finais de amores, etc.&lt;br /&gt;mas há coisas qua são e serão sempre unilaterais: separações, divórcios, mortes, depressões, nascimento.&lt;br /&gt;Infelizmente não tenho amigos nem sou bairrista para poder estar na tasca a comentar e mandar bujardas e como fui vítima de uma separação unilateral que me fez perder a vida não tenho ninguém em casa com quem comentar. Como amanhã só me vou levantar para ir ao IKEA onde a probabilidade de contactar com alguém vai ser nula e só ao fim do dia irei dar aula no Cartaxo (mas terei que falar de assuntos mais contextuais) e depois farei espectáculo no qual os actores chegam separadamente e quase nem sequer em cena falam, lá terei que continuar o meu processo solitário (por enquanto muito doloroso) de não ter pares para comentar. Mas se puderem acenar uma mãozinha a ilucidar-me se estou gágá ou não no sentido de não perceber o que se diz e porquê no panorama português agradeço. É que isto da solidão, quando se deixou de ser boa companhia para si próprio, ao fim de  tantos de ser o melhor amigo, doi que se farta e uma pessoa sente-se sozinha. O que é isto??? De que se fala??? Quem está habilitado a depôr? Ouvi uma série de "relatos pessoais" que não têm nada a haver com a situação. Não é que dei comigo a concordar com o gajo de direita que acha que as mulheres é que devem decidir e que não devem ser mandadas para a prisa? Os outros misturavam tudo.&lt;br /&gt;Devia haver um referendo sobre a solidão. Eu votava não e todos os dias as pessoas tinham acesso a uma panóplia de gente interessante que pudesse, voluntariamente, ir a casa, com assuntos múltiplos e carinhos e festinhas  q. b. e dormiam ou só iam embora depois de quem ficasse tivesse adormecido como um anjo e sem perigo de acordar , a meio da noite, com ansiedade.&lt;br /&gt;Eu sou e sempre fui muito bom em saber o que faz bem às pessoas. Às vezes tenho mau timing e por isso também fico sozinho. Mas sei que dei e fiz muito mais festas e dei muito mais abraços do que recebi. Se calhar não. É só, se calhar, a autoestima embaixo :-.&lt;br /&gt;Beijos grandes a todos e a todas.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-9112292417892897042?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/9112292417892897042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=9112292417892897042' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/9112292417892897042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/9112292417892897042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/01/referendos-tsss-tsss-tsss.html' title='Referendos, tsss tsss tsss'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-7429575694507876141</id><published>2007-01-23T15:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-23T16:01:30.388-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cenas da vida quotidiana</title><content type='html'>Que chatice. Hoje não houve espectáculo :-(( É uma pena porque fazemos uma preparação emocional muito intensa, mas pronto. Acontece.&lt;br /&gt;Besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-7429575694507876141?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/7429575694507876141/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=7429575694507876141' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/7429575694507876141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/7429575694507876141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/01/cenas-da-vida-quotidiana.html' title='Cenas da vida quotidiana'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-1067943732570633193</id><published>2007-01-18T19:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-18T19:49:23.271-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ainda acerca do Frozen</title><content type='html'>Hoje, no final do espectáculo, alguém gritou: Bravo Bruno. Fiquei perplexo e ainda mais quando as colegas não referiram nada sobre isso. Fizeram de conta que não ouviram. Ehehehe. Bem, mas o país épequeno e por isso um destes dias fui ao Mexe e uma senhora que me conhece muito bem de outras épocas mas que já não me cumprimentava há N tempo veio ter comigo para perguntar como me estava a dar com a "complicada da Lídia" ao que eu retruqui que não é nada complicada e é uma jóia bem humorada. Porque raio acham que as pessoas cristalizam nas fases? Se calhar teve uma fase complicada, que eu não assisti, mas agora só está insegura e uma querida. Enfim. Era para meter conversa ou pôr veneno.&lt;br /&gt;Acho que hoje apareci no Cartaz Sic ou algo assim. Não vi. Estava a rever o The Thing, do Carpenter. Não acho nada que vitórias neste país não sejam uma coisa breve. Mesmo que a Ana Tamen e a Maria José Paschoal tenham gostado muito como foram dizer-me ao camarim. Há coisas que em Portugal não têm reflexo. Convém ter a cabeça bem assente nos ombros. Senão magoas-te muito.&lt;br /&gt;besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-1067943732570633193?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/1067943732570633193/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=1067943732570633193' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/1067943732570633193'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/1067943732570633193'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/01/ainda-acerca-do-frozen.html' title='Ainda acerca do Frozen'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-5559315440081547016</id><published>2007-01-18T09:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-18T09:35:13.692-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Frozen</title><content type='html'>Ontem foi a estreia do &lt;em&gt;Frozen&lt;/em&gt;. Aparentemente correu bem apesar de, para mim, ter sido mais intenso o ensaio geral. Mas a encenadora gostou mais por isso a assinatura dela é que conta.&lt;br /&gt;Contudo o meu papel é mais para cinema. Eu explico: eu acabo de rastos e choro que em farto. Ora, depois, não é muito fácil estar com os amigos a cumprimentarem e a dar parabéns e entusiasmados porque estou a leste. Era mais fácil ser cinema, ia para o camarim no fim da cena e ainda ficava a chorar o resto da dor que instalo para a cena ou então vinha uma psicóloga e pronto e falava. Assim é complicado :-(((.&lt;br /&gt;Mas espero pela reacção do público geral.&lt;br /&gt;Vamos ver.&lt;br /&gt;besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-5559315440081547016?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/5559315440081547016/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=5559315440081547016' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/5559315440081547016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/5559315440081547016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/01/frozen.html' title='Frozen'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-7034008469737598246</id><published>2007-01-16T09:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-16T09:01:21.828-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Novela</title><content type='html'>Encostado ao balcão do bar, com vodka na mão. Ele está lá. Não te apetece nada ouvir coisas do género nesse dia (noite). Mas ele está lá. Tem deixado msg no tlm ou enviado sms's. Mas não te apetece ouvir tristeza nesse dia (noite). No entanto, o sorriso de entusiasmo do "oláááa´" anima-te. Ficas entre o aborrecido por teres sido "apanhado" e o "encantado" por alguém se animar por te ver. Também quem me manda ser bom ouvinte das tristezas dos outros mesmo quando as minhas estão com trabaalho acumulado? Mas enfim, adiante. Entre interrupções de conversa devido às sucessivas quedas de tema lá surge a questão da peça que vou estrear amanhã. Ele, o rapaz (para mim parece um puto mas diz que tem 42 anos), por vezes engana-me e fico a pensar se ele tem sentido de humor ou se é burro uma vez que a expressão não se altera. Se calhar tem sentido de humor. Eu sou uma pessoa muito positiva e optimista EHEHEH. Bem, adiante. Ele viu os cartazes na rua e perguntou (até hoje foi o único a fazer essa pergunta inteligente): mas então qual é a temática da peça? E eu sorri e respondi: Eu faço um pedófilo assassino. Ele, de rosto com expressão inalterada, retruquiu: ai que giro. LOL. Que giro!!!! Não acham genial??? Ele disse "que giro" com ar sério e sem mudar de expressão. Mesmo como bom ouvinte. Eu ri por dentro e continuei: A Lídia Franco faz a mãe da minha primeira vítima e a Suzana Borges faz de psiquiatra que estuda os assassinos em série. Ele, de rosto com expressão inalterada retruquiu: Eu conheci a Lídia há muitos anos. É uma pessoa muito simpática não é? E eu: é, e com um sentido de humor muito bom.&lt;br /&gt;Foi assim que nos despedimos. Com promessas de um café para breve e votos de muita merda para a estreia.&lt;br /&gt;Um rapaz tropeçou em mim e disse: Olha...?!!! (com ar de quem se lembrava de mim mas não sabia de onde). Ah, claro, foi da outra vez. (!!!!!???? esta é genial para disfarçar a falat de memória, normalmente eu fico-me pelo "então? tudo bem?" mas o rapaz foi genial) Fartei-me de rir. Por dentro. Para não parecer maluquinho. Sim, porque nunca se sabe como é que as pessoas lêem o que estão a ver.&lt;br /&gt;Ah, e uma amiga minha americana comprou uma prenda para um rapaz muito atraente, segundo ela. É uma t-shirt com um passarinho e diz: Faz-me um bico!!! Eu perguntei-lhe se ela sabia o que aquilo queria dizer. Ela sorriu, disse que na loja lhe tinham feito a tradução mas que ela ia fingir que não sabia e tinha desculpa porque é americana. Espertalhona!!! ;0))&lt;br /&gt;besos.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-7034008469737598246?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/7034008469737598246/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=7034008469737598246' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/7034008469737598246'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/7034008469737598246'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/01/novela.html' title='Novela'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-457443683382292126</id><published>2007-01-14T15:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-14T15:33:39.305-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Obrigado</title><content type='html'>FC, obrigado pelo teu comment. Felizmente quem tem ido ver os ensaios com público tem manifestado uma opinião bastante entusiasta em relação ao meu trabalho e isso é o que conta. Se quem está no mettier não o percebe é pena mas não posso fazer nada. Estou muito contente com o meu trabalho e considero que, se calhar, no panorama português (devido ás opiniões e opções estéticas) será difícil vir a trabalhar com semelhante autenticidade e intensidade com outros encenadores. Mas claro, a esperança é a última a morrer.&lt;br /&gt;Depois, quando forem ver, digam se o que está ali em causa é o mediatismo ou o trabalho e o valor da excelência.&lt;br /&gt;Besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-457443683382292126?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/457443683382292126/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=457443683382292126' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/457443683382292126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/457443683382292126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/01/obrigado.html' title='Obrigado'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-1981361675689956942</id><published>2007-01-12T06:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-12T11:34:48.125-08:00</updated><title type='text'>FODA-SE 2</title><content type='html'>O rapazinho imberbe da imprensa discute comigo a designação da minha licenciatura (apesar de eu ter, para além disso, uma pós-graduação de 2 anos e um mestrado de mais 2 anos e 3 semestres de tese com defesa notada em Muito bom - a nota máxima de estudos pós graduados de Mestrado e Doutoramento). Liga inclusive para a ESTC para confirmar se essa designação chegou a existir. O jornalista da Renascença entrevista-me confessando não me conhecer e dando a entender que achava que eu tinha "nascido" como actor nesta peça sem qualquer passado anterior, apesar de os colegas dele me terem feito inúmeras entrevistas no Trindade e de eu ter sido página inteira no Público e ter tido críticas do Manuel João Gomes e da Eugénia Vasques que me consideravam de antologia. Os meus alunos e colegas vão ver os ensaios e ficam desiludidos porque, afinal, ao contrário do que eles expectavam - queriam? - não estou a fazer apenas mais uma psicopata (a personagem nem sequer é isso) mas sim uma pessoa perturbada e fragilizada. A encenadora convida pessoas que, apesar de serem actores e uma até muito boa, não têm autoridade nenhuma teórica ou intelectual para se debruçarem sobre processos e/ou resultados.&lt;br /&gt;Ou estou a ficar louco, ou o fim do mundo começa muito antes de se instalar trazendo sintomas de cavalo selvagem às pessoas, ou sou eu quem está louco. O que é certo é que (e digo-o sem caganças) em sítios como, por exemplo, o Canadá, onde trabalho há setes anos, há a humildade de se colocarem nos seus devidos lugares a as pessoas não acham que podem pensar ou falar de ânimo leve sobre coisas que exigem um longo tempo de aprendizagem.&lt;br /&gt;Enfim.&lt;br /&gt;FODA-SE 2.&lt;br /&gt;Ah, e há quem queria "ameaçar-me" fragilizando-me em relação ao meu blog como se eu não tivesse já dado provas de que, à laia de Fernando Pessoa e Mário de Sá Carneiro, sou uma voz do país e da realidade. Sim, dessa construção do real que, em Portugal, é uma brincadeira de crianças enjoadas e crescidas a enjoar e sem um mínimo de colhões para fazer as coisas a sério e com elegância e classe. Neste país que, pelo facto de ter sido uma prenda, continua a funcionar como se tudo fosse apenas um ganho por um feito e a esquecerem-se que esse feito foi uma luta por vontades.&lt;br /&gt;Enfim.&lt;br /&gt;besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-1981361675689956942?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/1981361675689956942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=1981361675689956942' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/1981361675689956942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/1981361675689956942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/01/foda-se-2.html' title='FODA-SE 2'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-2863951721620269247</id><published>2007-01-10T22:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-12T11:33:49.808-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Foda-se</title><content type='html'>Até alguém de Teatro e importante, depois de uma sessão em que me transpús e trasvasei e expús e chorei baba e ranho e me entreguei para dizer que a Lídia estava com um excelente trabalho. É verdade. Ela está. Mas porque não o disse a ela e sim a mim? Será que não percebeu que, ao vir falar comigo, devia falar do MEU trabalho? Ou por eu ser homem acham que não ligo a isso?? Que falta de chá, de noção, de figura. É mesmo de quem não pensa. Como aliás parece ser apanágio recente. Depois de uma incursão pela elegância e simpatia parece que se cansaram. Que se fodam. NINGUÉM em Portugal sabe de nada no que toca a psicologia de Teatro. O que, quer queiram quer não, é o mais importante. Por mim a peça bem podia acabar para a semana. Que merda de tempo desperdiçado a tentar vender o projecto, sim, porque fui eu quem o vendeu com a sinopse que fiz e a pesquisa na net. Mas claro, ninguém se lembra disso. Cambada de ingratos. Que fiquem pelo mau que é apenas o que merecem.&lt;br /&gt;Foda-se.&lt;br /&gt;É que nem dá gosto.&lt;br /&gt;Besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-2863951721620269247?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/2863951721620269247/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=2863951721620269247' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/2863951721620269247'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/2863951721620269247'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/01/foda-se.html' title='Foda-se'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-8837067934511380170</id><published>2007-01-07T02:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-07T02:08:29.181-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mais... da vida</title><content type='html'>Ontem fui ver "Apokaliptiko", de Mel Gibson. Irrepreensível. Coloca de forma eficaz a tese de que todo e qualquer povo é igaulmente voraz e feroz desde que em causa esteja o poder e a manipulação das massas. Não existem povos melhores linearmente. Não mostra &lt;em&gt;Os Incas&lt;/em&gt; a serem maus todos mas quem manda e quem domina. Claro, a partir daí, a natureza encarrega-se do resto. Tudo se paga na mesma moeda. É uma boa metáfora para a actualidade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Frozen &lt;/em&gt;está quase a estrear e todos os dias há alterações. Haverá algum dia em que se possa vir a respirar e digerir o espectáculo e  as personagens?&lt;br /&gt;Estou um bocado ansioso em relação ao panorama do mercado de trabalho português. É que quando fico desiludido fico-o a fundo e não tenho forças para lutar contra as coisas e ser optimista. E como irei pagar as contas se me afastar?&lt;br /&gt;Enfim, só questões.&lt;br /&gt;Besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-8837067934511380170?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/8837067934511380170/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=8837067934511380170' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/8837067934511380170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/8837067934511380170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2007/01/mais-da-vida.html' title='Mais... da vida'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-8105089005585129460</id><published>2006-12-28T16:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-28T17:03:14.605-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Recentemente...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RZRpQMLf1EI/AAAAAAAAABY/oxznqz--5iY/s1600-h/66+anos+da+MÃ£e+018.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5013748012038476866" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RZRpQMLf1EI/AAAAAAAAABY/oxznqz--5iY/s320/66+anos+da+M%C3%A3e+018.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;os meus amigos começaram a falar só ou sobre si próprios (a sua pessoa e quotidiano) ou sobre o que lhes interessa saber e ainda não sabiam na altura em que o assunto foi atirado para a roleta. Resultado, dou comigo ou calado ou a a falar sobre o que fiz ou deixo de fazer para que o jantar soe a um jantar de amigos e não uma conferência. Se calhar... ando a precisar de atenção!?!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-8105089005585129460?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/8105089005585129460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=8105089005585129460' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/8105089005585129460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/8105089005585129460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2006/12/recentemente.html' title='Recentemente...'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RZRpQMLf1EI/AAAAAAAAABY/oxznqz--5iY/s72-c/66+anos+da+M%C3%A3e+018.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-6018647201514810317</id><published>2006-12-25T06:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-25T07:05:59.467-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Natal em Paz</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RY_oyMLf1DI/AAAAAAAAABM/VGVSAszE_uI/s1600-h/ma%20mere%20screenshot%203.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5012480859247203378" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RY_oyMLf1DI/AAAAAAAAABM/VGVSAszE_uI/s320/ma%2520mere%2520screenshot%25203.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;É Natal. Ontem consegui finalmente ter uma noite calma em casa com a Família. Já aos anos que não acontecia tal coisa. Pus o filme "Minha Mãe", com a Isabelle Hupert, a partir da novela homónima do georges Batailles. É um filme violento sobre a barreira entre o Bem e o Mal (como toda a obra do Batailles) que é quase nula e apenas necessita de estímulos. Um filme perturbador mas que consegui que se visse até ao fim.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Besos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-6018647201514810317?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/6018647201514810317/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=6018647201514810317' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/6018647201514810317'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/6018647201514810317'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2006/12/natal-em-paz.html' title='Natal em Paz'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RY_oyMLf1DI/AAAAAAAAABM/VGVSAszE_uI/s72-c/ma%2520mere%2520screenshot%25203.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-8771761295409503697</id><published>2006-12-15T17:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-15T17:16:45.826-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Futuro</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RYNI8MLf1CI/AAAAAAAAABA/KRZY9hXjYYc/s1600-h/Po2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5008927409464923170" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RYNI8MLf1CI/AAAAAAAAABA/KRZY9hXjYYc/s320/Po2.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Futuro incerto e sem avença com a clama, eis o que pressagio em tempos próximos. Cada passo, cada dia, me desloco mais e mais de tudo e de todos. Já não acredito em quase nada e quase nada me apraz. Apenas receio que me desligue dos últimos laços que me mantêm ligado ao mundo. A instituição à qual estou ligado, mas sem vínculo efectivo, há 13 anos, é cada vez mais desordenada o que me desanima. Não consigo já, ou pelo menos neste momento, viver da mesma forma, mas outra também não se contorna em Portugal. Ou será em mim?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-8771761295409503697?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/8771761295409503697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=8771761295409503697' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/8771761295409503697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/8771761295409503697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2006/12/futuro.html' title='Futuro'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RYNI8MLf1CI/AAAAAAAAABA/KRZY9hXjYYc/s72-c/Po2.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-6257305299922292187</id><published>2006-12-05T17:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-05T17:46:30.802-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Natal</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RXYg06J227I/AAAAAAAAAAc/XirHhPgKsYc/s1600-h/xmas.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5005224129204771762" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RXYg06J227I/AAAAAAAAAAc/XirHhPgKsYc/s320/xmas.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Olá, para quem não sabe eu gosto da ideia do Natal mas não do consumismo mas podemos ter o espírito, certo? Mas gostava de ter as pessoas menos alheadas. Anda tudo um bocado estranho ou está a acabar o mundo e ninguém me avisou?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;besos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-6257305299922292187?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/6257305299922292187/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=6257305299922292187' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/6257305299922292187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/6257305299922292187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2006/12/natal.html' title='Natal'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/RXYg06J227I/AAAAAAAAAAc/XirHhPgKsYc/s72-c/xmas.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-669026224082212202</id><published>2006-12-03T18:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-03T18:46:47.252-08:00</updated><title type='text'>(I)MORTAL no Trindade</title><content type='html'>Ontem fizemos o (I)MoRtal no sítio onde eu o tinha imaginado = na sala principal do Teatro da Trindade :-0))&lt;br /&gt;Infelizmente duas pessoas não foram. Uma não vou dizer quem é. A outra foi a minha mãe. Ela ia ver mas quando viu o meu pai (eles são divorciados) foi-se embora. Há coisas assim.&lt;br /&gt;Besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-669026224082212202?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/669026224082212202/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=669026224082212202' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/669026224082212202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/669026224082212202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2006/12/imortal-no-trindade.html' title='(I)MORTAL no Trindade'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-6044019890402174810</id><published>2006-11-27T17:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-27T17:25:01.736-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Se não forem ver fodo-vos os cornos</title><content type='html'>Têm que clickar no X para ver a pic.&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/263/1001/1600/(I)Mortal-Trindade2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/263/1001/320/%28I%29Mortal-Trindade2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Pois, é assim mesmo, é agora ou nunca que provam se gostam de mim.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mai náda&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-6044019890402174810?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/6044019890402174810/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=6044019890402174810' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/6044019890402174810'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/6044019890402174810'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2006/11/se-no-forem-ver-fodo-vos-os-cornos.html' title='Se não forem ver fodo-vos os cornos'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-3356261671477358059</id><published>2006-11-26T16:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-26T16:27:23.831-08:00</updated><title type='text'>De Novo</title><content type='html'>Pois, ia iniciar de novo este blog dizendo que não aprecio nem nunca apreciei as questiúnculas pequeninas das mentalidades amarfanhadas. Nem as quero cultivar nem alimentar. Pelo amor da santa. Ter amigas que afinal são apena smulherzinhas de terceira classe não me interessa. Crasçam senhoras, e apareçam. O mundo é maior do que isso que vocês julgam ser o mundo.&lt;br /&gt;Francamente. Já têm idade para terem juízo.&lt;br /&gt;Mas afinal fiquei sem uma série de mensagens, olha que bolas. Apagaram-se à minha frente. Que chatice.&lt;br /&gt;Enfim&lt;br /&gt;Besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-3356261671477358059?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/3356261671477358059/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=3356261671477358059' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/3356261671477358059'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/3356261671477358059'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2006/11/de-novo.html' title='De Novo'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-116243201605130153</id><published>2006-11-01T17:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-06T00:57:31.376-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ironia da vida</title><content type='html'>Nunca quis nem alimentei (esclareçam-me se o contrário for verdade) ser encontrado morto ao terceiro dia sozinho em casa, à laia do Benny Hill ou do meu professor de sapateado parisiense Tony Clide (nome artístico, óbviamente). Pelo contrário. Sempre tive essa fobia e por isso brincava com a situação. Ora, aqui está a ironia. O que é um facto é que a a ideia não me deixa de (sobre)assaltar quando, como é o caso, estou com um constipação maior do que qualquer gripe, cheio de febre e suores frios e a casa num caos que mete nojo e o telefone apenas toca em última estância se houve algum problema de trabalho, e mesmo assim hoje esteve quedo. É de arrepiar &lt;a href="mailto:amig@s"&gt;amig@s&lt;/a&gt;... é de arrepiar... Faz-me sentir que afinal a vida não passa de um grande e imenso salão social onde só existes se dançares (apareceres).&lt;br /&gt;Enfim&lt;br /&gt;Besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-116243201605130153?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/116243201605130153/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=116243201605130153' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/116243201605130153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/116243201605130153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2006/11/ironia-da-vida.html' title='Ironia da vida'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-116121690718764379</id><published>2006-10-18T17:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-24T00:50:43.193-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Bad Patch</title><content type='html'>Hoje foi um dia mau...  tive insónias e acordei cheio de sono mas com o dia todo preenchido. No ensaio com a Suzana Borges tive que me controlar para não me passar com tanta teimosia e vistas curtas e mania de que tudo é  mais complicado do que é. Quando as pessoas tentam ver intelectualidade em tudo é muito mau. Depois fui fazer a aula da Sofia e lá me aliviou um bocado mas senti desde o princípio que não ia ser um dia muito profícuo. E assim foi: o segundo espectáculo da minha programação no Santiago Alquimista não aconteceu porque não houve público devido ao futebol. O que mais me custa é a mentalidade. Se houvesse convites estava lá tudo caído. Por isso é que não vale a pena apostar neste país.&lt;br /&gt;Estou fodido com a vida e com tudo e o pior é que estou sem energia para lutar por seja o que for.&lt;br /&gt;Enfin.&lt;br /&gt;besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-116121690718764379?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/116121690718764379/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=116121690718764379' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/116121690718764379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/116121690718764379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2006/10/bad-patch.html' title='A Bad Patch'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-116038630420774980</id><published>2006-10-09T02:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-09T03:32:42.143-07:00</updated><title type='text'>41</title><content type='html'>Viva, depois de um mês e uma semana no Porto, na noite da estreia e vésperas do meu aniversário, roubaram-me a carteira :-(( fiquei todo fo..... É que tinha lá tudo e eu raramente saio com a carteira e logo desta vez fui sair com ela. Entretanto fiz anos e foram duas ressacas seguidas, a da estreia e a dos anos. Resultado, estou intragável e nem sequer posso ir de férias "limpar-me" porque hoje começas as aulas e os ensaios com a Suzana Borges e a Lídia Franco que, como só estão a fazer uma única coisa, não me largam com o entusiasmo de uma peça que só vai acontecer em Janeiro. Enfim. Estou mesmo a precisar de umas termas.&lt;br /&gt;besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-116038630420774980?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/116038630420774980/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=116038630420774980' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/116038630420774980'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/116038630420774980'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2006/10/41.html' title='41'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-116009115456226853</id><published>2006-10-05T16:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-05T16:32:34.573-07:00</updated><title type='text'>WTC e mais</title><content type='html'>Pois... fiquei quase a chorar com o filme. Apesar de umas opções estéticas das aparições de Jesus  e da esposa do Cage (podia ser menos kitch ó Stone) o filme é excelentemente feito e toca em material universalmente humano, comovente e que nos deixa apreensivos. Quase que me senti lá. Só não concluí o processo de transferência porque a claustrofobia era superior.&lt;br /&gt;Amanhã estreia a peça que estive a encenar este mês. Melhor dizendo, logo estreia, sim porque já passa da meia noite. Tenho pena que esteja no fim este mês de vida suspensa mas acho que já me chorei demais. Acho que só uma coisa me faz querer, ao mesmo tempo, que termine: é que eu aqui perdia-me se ficasse muito tempo. Faz mal à vista (ou bem) não sei se me percebem. Mas mesmo muito bem mal à vista. E todos os dias e a todas as horas. Não há sossego assim :0))&lt;br /&gt;Bem, vou dormir.&lt;br /&gt;Besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-116009115456226853?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/116009115456226853/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=116009115456226853' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/116009115456226853'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/116009115456226853'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2006/10/wtc-e-mais.html' title='WTC e mais'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8200455.post-116003331991008478</id><published>2006-10-05T00:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-05T00:28:39.923-07:00</updated><title type='text'>SAD</title><content type='html'>Estou triste e vou dizer porquê. É a 5ª semana que estou noPorto. Só. Sem ter que dar satisfações a ninguém. Mas está a acabar. Os dias de nevoeiro estão a acabar. Os dias de independência estão a acabar. Os dias em que a vida ficou suspensa estão a acabar.&lt;br /&gt;Que pena. Cada vez mais sinto que a atitude do poder dá cabo de tudo :-)))&lt;br /&gt;Besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8200455-116003331991008478?l=brunoschiappa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/feeds/116003331991008478/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8200455&amp;postID=116003331991008478' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/116003331991008478'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8200455/posts/default/116003331991008478'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brunoschiappa.blogspot.com/2006/10/sad.html' title='SAD'/><author><name>love</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17578875646869572847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lc5D81rh364/SzEtxe5CpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/xPE_QdWh8gM/S220/bruno1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
