Thursday, April 05, 2007



Para mulheres, organza e contas fantasia:


Collection Filles Rosa Papaya

Girls Collection, Rosa Papaya

Linha Fricote para meninas


Para mulheres, prata folheada, contas Swarovski e millefiori:

Cinderela, Cinderela,
Noite e dia, Cinderela,
Lava a roupa, passa a roupa,
Mais depressa, Cinderella!

Wednesday, April 04, 2007

Esse é para Meninas!

Collection Filles Rosa Papaya

Girls Collection, Rosa Papaya

Linha Fricote para meninas


Batatinha quando nasce,
se esparrama pelo chão;
a menina quando dorme,
põe a mão no coração.

Monday, April 02, 2007

Sunday, April 01, 2007

My Love in Her Attire
by Author Unknown

My love in her attire doth show her wit,
It doth so well become her:
For every season she hath dressings, fit,
For winter, spring, and summer.
No beauty she doth miss,
When all her robes are on:
But Beauty's self she is,
When all her robes are gone.

Not all who wander are lost.

Tolkien

Friday, March 30, 2007


Decade

Amy Lowell

When you came, you were like red wine and honey,
And the taste of you burnt my mouth with its sweetness.
Now you are like morning bread,
Smooth and pleasant.
I hardly taste you at all for I know your savour,
But I am completely nourished.

Thursday, March 29, 2007


The Wine

James Thompson

The wine of Love is music,
... And the feast of Love is song:
And when Love sits down to the banquet,
...Love sits long:

Sits long and arises drunken,
... But not with the feast and the wine;
He reeleth with his own heart,
... That great, rich Vine.

LInha Fricote para Meninas

Collection Filles Rosa Papaya

Girls Collection, Rosa Papaya

Linha Fricote para meninas


Contas coloridas, botões e prata folheada


To my two little Princesses, that their lives be full of colors, flowers, fun, and love.

Wednesday, March 28, 2007

Fricote

Collection Filles Rosa Papaya

Girls Collection, Rosa Papaya

Linha Fricote para meninas


Colar em contas fantasia, e uma conta com um sapinho, feita à mão, na chama, por artesão


Contas fantasia e dragão (cabeça, corpo e cauda) feito à mão, na chama, por artesão


Jewelery for Little Girls



Anonymous

His form
In my eyes,
His touch
In my limbs,
His words
In my ears,
His heart
In my heart:
Now who's
Separated?

translated from Prakit by Arvind Krishna Mehrotra

Friday, February 02, 2007


Late Fragment

And did you get what
you wanted from this life, even so?
I did.
And what did you want?
To call myself beloved, to feel myself
beloved on the earth.

Raymond Carver


Thursday, February 01, 2007

Little pervert Byron

So We'll Go No More A Roving

So we'll go no more a roving
So late into the night,
Though the heart be still as loving,
And the moon be still as bright.

For the sword outwears its sheath,
And the soul wears out its breast,
And the heart must pause to breathe,
And love itself have rest.

Though the night was made for loving,
And the day returns too soon,
Yet we'll go no more a roving
By the light of the moon.

Lord Byron

The Good Morrow

And now good morrow to our waking souls,
Which watch not one another out of fear;
For love, all love of other sights controls
and makes one little room, an everywhere.

John Donne

Thursday, January 25, 2007


Here we are all, by day; by night we're hurled
By dreams, each one, into a several world.

Robert Herrick


Wednesday, January 24, 2007




To my Dear and Loving Husband

If ever two were one, then surely we;
If ever man were loved by wife, then thee;
If ever wife was happy in a man,
Compare with me, ye women, if you can.
I prize thy love more than whole mines of gold
Or all the riches that the East doth hold.
My love is such that rivers cannot quench,

Nor aught but love from thee give recompense.

Thy love is such I can no way repay;

The heavens reward thee manifold, I pray.

Then while we live in love let's so persevere

That when we live no more we may live ever.


Anne Bradstreet


Monday, January 22, 2007

A drinking Song

Wine comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That's all we know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth,
I look at you, and I sigh.

W. B. Yeats