today, on the beach by fredmatos

Excuse me. I will not visit, comment, vote, without putting any pictures in my favorites. I am rising this photo to warn you that I’m alive, but still unwilling to participate in this race marked cards in what has become the 500px.
I wish a great weekend for everyone.

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Praia de Algés – Lisbon, Portugal – Travel photography by pixael

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subtile by fredmatos

I published here a few days ago a picture very similar to this, but with subtle differences. Thinking about it, it occurred to me the title for the photo, but the title could be that, even if the other photo does not exist.

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I wish you all a great Tuesday. This includes some people who do not like my photos, find them to reach very high score and think that the votes and favorites that get are only counterpart.

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dune at the river mouth by fredmatos

Traveling, meeting other cities, new landscapes, cultural and different customs of my people and their stories, their projects, their dreams. This is my hobby, in which the picture is integrated as an accomplice, as a justification, like a third eye, also as an instrument through which I can relive every moment lived outside of my daily life.

Some images appeal to me just by the way, by the traces, the contrast between the volumes, colors, light.

This is a simple image recorded on my most recent trip to the mouth of the São Francisco River in northeastern Brazil: a couple down the sand dune, a woman and a child up. I prefer that there were large clouds in the sky, but there was. As I said is a simple image, almost minimalist, it may be precisely why I liked it.

I hope you also enjoy.

Good weekend for all.

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the fish wagon by fredmatos

The great Russian writer Anton Chekhov said, “The works of art are divided into two categories: those that I like and I do not like. I know of no other criterion “. However, this does not mean that you do not like is bad. Learn, therefore, to respect the tastes of others so that they meet yours.

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Europe 1 by fredmatos

um homem e o seu cavalo
sob nuvens de borboletas e pétalas
mas ele apenas observa
o movimento do corpo
a sua sombra projetada na pedra
e ouve uma voz do passado:

“vês?
a terra é promessa de pão”

põe os olhos na alpercata
a memória é um turbilhão
um arco, um sopro, uma flecha

lábios
rubros intumescidos lábios
notas de recorrente canção:

vês?
a terra é promessa de pão

pensa que nada mudou
sabe que nada permanece
um homem e o seu cavalo
sob nuvens de borboletas e pétalas
desaparecem na curva da estrada
rumo ao pó e à escuridão

Fred Matos

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