marinaandnodiamonds

[marinaandnodiamonds]

Work

Netflix:

De Volta aos 15 - S1/S2

Nada Suspeitos - S1

Cangaceiro do Futuro - S1

O Lado Bom de Ser Traída

Um Natal Cheio de Graça

Esposa de Aluguel

Globoplay:

Rensga Hits - S1

Outros:

Bem-Vinda a Quixeramobim

Lana & Carol - S1

[marinaandnodiamonds]

My Year in Books with Goodreads.

#goodreads #year in books #book tumblr #booklr

[marinaandnodiamonds]

I think this book deserves special praise. If you know me well enough you know I have my own relationship with cemeteries and death. It probably stems from my dad dying when I was 7, and the habit of visiting his grave quite frequently. Cemeteries have always brought me peace. They've brought me sadness too, on occasion, but mainly peace. I wish more people would feel the same.

And believe me, I tried! Since I was 19 I've been cunningly bringing cemeteries into my films - and forcing crew members to involuntarily look at them as commonplace. I've even had beloved friends meet in a cemetery in one of the shoots and fall in love. This book was recommended to me by a dear friend who knew I would like it without even reading it first. The main character works in a cemetery as a groundskeeper. We get to know her own story as she shares the story of the people connected to the cemetery - dead and living.

We are never ready for tragedies because they are always so sad. But there can be peace in sadness, we just have to find it, to feel it. And once we do, it doesn't go away. Like the people we love never really go away, they simply become memory. What is a cemetery but a library of memories?

#marina and no diamonds #writing #cemetery #fresh water for flowers #valerie perrin #book recommendation #book review #bookworm

[marinaandnodiamonds]

Condensed milk, but make it healthy

As a Brazilian, condensed milk is a staple for many recipes, or even to simply eat with a spoon. Here’s a healthier way to make your own!

The easiest recipe you ever saw:

Homemade condensed milk

INGREDIENTS

1 1/2 cup skimmed powdered milk (or whole milk, if you don’t mind the fat) 1/2 cup sweetener (I personally decided for half stevia and half brown sugar) 1/2 cup water

INSTRUCTIONS

Heat up the water so it’s warm, but NOT BOILING.

Put everything in a blender.

Blend for around 3 minutes.

Serve in a bowl and take to fridge.

In around 6h it will have reached the right consistency.

You’re welcome!

#marina and no diamonds #condensed milk #recipe #healthy recipe #healthy alternative #home cooking #easy recipe #dessert

[marinaandnodiamonds]

People are strange

We were never really friends. Friends have your back just because. He had friends, but he wasn’t anybody’s friend, not really. He seemed to look at relationships, any relationship, as contracts. I give you this thing you want, you give me this thing I need. If a stranger approached me on the street, he simply walked on. My safety was not his concern. Even in bed it worked like that. There was no symbiosis, no common ground. A simple exchange. It was a summer love, or rather a summer convenience, and we never saw each other again. Years later, we met by accident, both selected to a prestigious art workshop. I was there for my photos, he was there for his writing. I never even knew he wrote. He pretended like he didn’t know me. I rolled my eyes and moved on. Then I got a note, come and see me, address attached. I knew better than to play this game, but curiosity got the best of me. We had one of the most profound conversations I’ve ever had in my life. He opened up about his history, his insecurities and the unpredictable turn of events that led him there. I talked about home, my people, my plans - the realistic ones, the ones I only dreamed about. We talked about art, philosophy and the planet. How we were just where we were meant to be, right when we were meant to be there. I was still smiling when I walked to campus the next morning. He was talking to a couple of people in a corner, I came to say hi. He pretended like he didn’t know me.

[marinaandnodiamonds]

Cellist - Róbert Berény

30-DAY WRITING PROMPTS CHALLENGE

(I’m skipping on day 26 and day 30, so here are the three remaining challenges, all bundled up together because they whispered to me they didn’t want to be alone - which is my dog-ate-my-homework way of saying I simply wanted to do it like that)

Day 27: You find yourself aboard the Titanic with full knowledge of what is going to happen.

Day 28: If you could pick another name, what would it be and why?

Day 29: If, at an inn with just a few people staying there, there's a gigantic blizzard. You're stuck there, but someone has been murdered! Write what happens next.

-

THE CELLIST SOLO

Picking up my cello, I joined the other guys. My hand trembled in the beginning, the immensity of everything dawning on me. I had chosen this. I wanted this. I looked at my colleagues and their determination gave me strength. All around us, people ran, cried, said goodbye. Soon I was serving my best performance in a very long time, ever since I found out what was going to happen. I was finally able to focus, nothing else left to consider. I had already spent the last few weeks reminiscing on my life, the good and the bad, but mainly the good. Like a relationship that has run its course, when you’re about to die and don’t want to it’s like nothing bad ever happened, you cling to life like a cotton candy dream. The ship started to lose balance. Not long before it tipped to one side and broke in half. When I was young, Cid used to tease me for being too dramatic. I used to say I wish I would die in a big tragedy, like those people on board the Titanic. So when they asked me to choose a setup, the memory came to mind. Funny and sad. Cid laughing at the whole thing, me feigning offense. A piercing scream. A woman losing balance as the ship moved, almost missing the boat as she was helped in by someone, maybe her husband. I wouldn’t feel whatever horrible pain those people felt. I wouldn’t drown, I wouldn’t get electrocuted, I wouldn’t get smashed or have a heart attack. I would just cease to be. At least that’s what they promised in the pamphlet, though there was no way to know for sure. Their clients were all dead after all. A little red dot appeared in the sky, my 30-second cue. I took a deep breath and played fiercely, sweat dripping from my forehead, my heart pounding fast, my eyes wide open. Until I ceased to be.

MARINA

As a child, I thought my name was too common. I complained to my mother. It wasn’t even a name that allowed nicknames. And to top it off there was a song with my name and every single teacher would sing it to me on the first day of school. Maybe that’s why I was so active and sought to be different, to be myself, to make sure people knew who I was – not everyone, but the people who mattered. That said, in this digital world, I would enjoy the experience of having an email that didn’t involve my full name, a simpler and wittier social media nickname. Maybe the name of a tree species. An old goddess. A beautiful sound. But I could never choose one, go ask my mother.

AGATHA CHRISTIE MEETS THE MINISTRY OF SILLY JOKES

Everybody instantly panics. The finger pointing starts. Nobody trusts anybody, not even people who came in together. It’s like we’re in an Agatha Christie novel. Getting out means certain death, but staying in doesn’t look much better. After a long hysteria we settle down. If nobody sleeps and nobody leaves the room we can all wait until morning and get out. What about eating and drinking? We all go to the kitchen together and bring all provisions to the main room. When we’re back, I feel my bladder tighten. What about peeing? A bucket in the corner is brought to the middle of the room. It’s decided that when a woman has to pee all men turn their backs and the women keep watch, and the other way around when it’s a man. By the time morning comes, there’s pee everywhere, somebody must have kicked the bucket in their sleep. Everybody has fallen asleep at some point. A sudden police car noise wakes us all up. We look around startled. One of the guys starts counting, the numbers don’t match. Has somebody else died? No, there’s one extra head. They realise the dead body wasn’t a dead body after all. He is called to explain. Some health condition makes him sleep with his eyes open, and once he’s asleep nothing will wake him, not even a powerful blizzard. Why are the police there for then? The policeman knocks on the door. By the time he comes in I’m as good as gone, everybody’s wallets in my bag.

#creative writing #writing prompt #writing challenge

[marinaandnodiamonds]

The Ghost of a Flea - William Blake

30-DAY WRITING PROMPTS CHALLENGE

Day 25: "I think I'm in the wrong room."

-

HEAL

The room was crowded, but every single person present avoided the rest. Brothers could be there together and never know. Enemies could be there seeking for means to destroy each other and be oblivious. She was there to heal. Anything besides that was a mystery to her. There was no pep talk, no guidelines, no map. The door opened to an aisle that gave way to other aisles. A dark labyrinth full of different rooms. Once somebody entered a room it became locked. One room per person, one person per room. She waited for a sign, anything that indicated that that was the right door, but nothing came. People kept walking into rooms until there was only her. And only one room. She got in. At first there was nothing, then her head felt dizzy. She felt herself shrinking, like Alice entering Wonderland. The small, dark room became huge. She could see a small source of light far away. For lack of options, she walked towards it. After what felt like an hour, she was exhausted and could barely discern anything apart from a golden glow. As she finally got closer, she could see the light came from outside. It was a tiny hole in the wall, as tiny as she was now. As everything. Tiny little things in this big whole universe. She felt numb, like she had invariably felt in the past few months. A tiny little numb dot, devoid of all feeling, devoid of all purpose. Then something walked in through the light. Something grotesque. She panicked. She couldn’t possibly run after walking for so long.  She wanted to scream, but what if the thing attacked her? She wanted out of there. She wanted her size back, she wanted her life back. Her numbness turned into fear, a deep fear she had never felt before. The creature walked past the hole in the wall into the darkness of the room. It could be anywhere, it could be walking towards her, it could be right by her side. She ran to the hole and jumped.

#creative writing #writing prompt #writing challenge

[marinaandnodiamonds]

Salle à manger avec vue sur le jardin - Pierre Bonnard

30-DAY WRITING PROMPTS CHALLENGE

Day 24: Your dream house.

-

THINGS THAT WOULD MAKE MY DREAM HOME

Green surroundings. Birds chirping, maybe some people walking and talking, but no car noise. A reliable tree to sit by and read or have a picnic. If there’s a lake, all the better. If there’s a mountain view, perfect. For a long time, I was a big admirer of cottage exteriors, but I also love big windows, so maybe something in between classic and contemporary. Wooden furniture for the living room, maybe mixed with some black metal details, a comfortable couch and equally comfortable chairs. For the kitchen, minimalist decor, considerable space and, one of the pieces I most covet, an island. No need for a separate dining room, but would be lovely if the dining table space has a view. A bathroom with heating for the colder months, a waterfall shower and a bathtub. My bedroom doesn’t need much more than a good bed with some smooth sheets, beside tables with individual lamps and considerable wardrobe storage or a built-in closet. Apart from that, a guest room would be a nice touch, as well as a room to keep some gym equipment. And, to crown all this, a cosy little library where I’d spend HOURS of my day reading and writing.

#creative writing #writing prompt #writing challenge

[marinaandnodiamonds]

Friedhofseingang - Caspar David Friedrich

30-DAY WRITING PROMPTS CHALLENGE

Day 23: Write about a chance encounter at a cemetery.

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LOVE AT FIRST SIGH

As per usual, he changed the flowers, put new candles and replaced the fading photo under the plastic cover. Always the same photo, not the one in which she looked best, but the one taken on the happiest day of her life, or so she said. He put the old stuff in a compostable bag and stood staring at his work for a minute. He was about to leave when he heard a sigh and noticed a woman at the neighbouring grave. Her face had the air of somebody who has just lost someone. To his own surprise, he struck out a conversation. “It gets better, you know? Or easier, at least.” She just looked at him, not angry or offended, but simply not ready to speak. “Your husband?”, he asked. “Once,” she spoke, finally. “Wife?”, she asked, looking at the photo he had just put up. “My sister,” he replied. She nodded once. “I’m sorry.” He smiled sympathetically. “It’s okay, it’s been a long time. You just have to remember them enough to feel their presence and forget them enough to keep on living.” She looked down. “I’m not sure how much I want to remember,” she said gravely. He cursed himself for speaking out of turn. He didn’t know her, he didn’t know the story. Maybe the deceased was a dickhead. Dickheads also died. Several seconds went by and he couldn’t find the words to say he was sorry, so instead he said: “Fancy a cuppa?”. To which she unexpectedly said yes.

#creative writing #writing prompt #writing challenge

[marinaandnodiamonds]

Le bateau rouge - Odilon Redon

30-DAY WRITING PROMPTS CHALLENGE

Day 22: A small ship is sailing around the world with only the captain and a passenger on board. At each port, the captain must leave one passenger and pick up another. Who are these people?

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THE SCHOOL BOAT

Down goes the Meyer boy, up goes the Owens kid, down goes he again at the corner of Saint Street. Up goes Michaela waiting by the Northern Quay. And down she goes again, leaving space for little Dee. Down and up the children go as the day goes on. The school boat taking them exactly where they need to go.

#creative writing #writing prompt #writing challenge

[marinaandnodiamonds]

Une femme fait cuire le pain - Jean-Francois Millet

30-DAY WRITING PROMPTS CHALLENGE

Day 21: Write a 400-word story featuring alligator boots, the aroma of baking bread, and disappointment.

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THE TIP OF THE ICEBERG

We had joked about getting married the day we mastered the art of sourdough bread. We had been bottom of the class since the course started six weeks before. Our constant failing led to coffee, then a date, then a shared Airbnb. She said she was there because she had always dreamed of being a baker and after getting fired from a dull office job it just seemed like a sign. It made me admire her even more, both because she was taking a chance and because she had clearly no talent and still persevered. When I told her all my shortcomings as an introvert and routine-led human being on the brink of hopelessness, she told me all about travelling the world, meeting new people, going to exciting places. She would help me overcome my stagnation to the best of her ability. She didn’t have any money, though. But I had. I had a lot more money than I cared to spend, always anticipating an emergency, a tragedy of some kind. I had come to Italy as a wake-up call. I had no social life, no hobbies, no anything. My own company was threatening to vote me out of the board if I continued like that. I had to add value to what we did, and staying put like that was extremely discouraging for our image. So they shipped me to France to get some life experience for once. And so I did. I had travelled, was about to learn how to make sourdough bread and, better yet, would go back with a wife. Because I took the joke seriously and would ask her to marry me that afternoon. Then she showed up to class in alligator boots and it was the beginning of the end. Wasn’t she vegan? That one lie led to the discovery of several other lies. There was no office job, no travelling spirit, no dream of being a baker. She enrolled in the course to meet me. She knew I would be there and she was after my money. I didn’t know it all at once, though. In that moment, I only saw the boots. As the smell of baking bread filled my nostrils, I knew it had all been a big illusion. She didn’t even notice my disappointment as she walked in carrying her successful sourdough bread. Store bough, I would later find out.

#creative writing #writing prompt #writing challenge

[marinaandnodiamonds]

Cheshire Cat - Dominic Murphy

30-DAY WRITING PROMPTS CHALLENGE

Day 20: Pick a favourite character from literature, then imagine him/her/it at your family's dinner table during the holidays.

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THAT TIME I INVITED THE CHESHIRE CAT FOR CHRISTMAS EVE DINNER

It was cute at first, but after every single pudding slice went missing as he appeared and disappeared around the table it got weird. Equally unnerving for the simple members of the family who just wanted to pet him instead of going on philosophical debates. Huge success with the deeply bored children though, and the only creature to date, human or otherwise, to actually get them to drop their phones.

#creative writing #writing prompt #writing challenge

[marinaandnodiamonds]

The Traveling Companions - Augustus Leopold Egg

30-DAY WRITING PROMPTS CHALLENGE

Day 19: If you could trade lives with someone for a week, who would it be? Why?

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IF I COULD TRADE LIVES WITH SOMEONE FOR A WEEK IT WOULD BE...

An anonymous and unassuming rich woman travelling the world. Call me if you know her.

#creative writing #writing prompt #writing challenge

[marinaandnodiamonds]

La Durée poignardée - René Magritte

30-DAY WRITING PROMPTS CHALLENGE

Day 18: You spend a week on a train that travels at the speed of light. When you disembark, it is one hundred years into the future. Describe what you see.

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OAK

I don’t open the door, it opens by itself. I don’t walk out either, before I step out of the train the tiles under my feet carry me where I need to go. Or they would, if I knew where to go. As I don’t, they take me in slow circles, like a real-life loading page. Then an image of the city library comes to me and, as soon as I think it, the tiles lead me there. Only there’s no library there anymore. The facade is preserved, but it seems the concept of a physical library is a thing of the past. The tiles take me inside, where I can see the most monumental books exposed like museum pieces, whilst further inside the building has become some sort of self-serving fast-food business. There are not as many people outside as there used to be, and I’m afraid to find out why. Have we committed ourselves to second-life online spaces? Have we stopped procreating? Have we gone through a major war or a major pandemic? I only have a few minutes to spare before my train takes me back and I realise where I want to spend them. I want to see my favourite tree. The tiles speed up, as if aware that we can’t afford to lose time. My heart is beating up fast, anticipating disappointment. I barely recognise the path, everything is so different. The tiles come to a sudden stop and I notice I’ve close my eyes. I take a deep breath and open them slowly. As soon as I do, I feel tears forming. My tree, my beautiful tree. It’s there. Despite all else, it stands. And gives me something to stand for.

#creative writing #writing prompt #writing challenge

[marinaandnodiamonds]

Blue Monochrome - Yves Klein

30-DAY WRITING PROMPTS CHALLENGE

Day 17: Write a paragraph starting with this sentence, without mentioning the sky or water, "as blue as ___."

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BLUE

As blue as Neptune’s surface. As intangible. Ice, rock and vapour. Cold, strong. Untouchable. Supersonic, stormy. Hot in the core that we can’t see. Improbable, yet so possible. So distant, so blue, so absolute. So far from mine.

#creative writing #writing prompt #writing challenge

[marinaandnodiamonds]

Allegorie op het geloof - Johannes Vermeer

30-DAY WRITING PROMPTS CHALLENGE

Day 16: Rant for 10 minutes, starting with, "What suck is...".

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WHAT SUCKS IS...

The concept of borders, separating us more and more, shutting privileged people in places they did not “conquer”, but rather stole. We can’t choose where we live, what to visit. The entire concept is bullshit. “This piece of world is mine”, says a tiny human being, a speck of dust in the universe. We are different from one another, we not all want the same thing, we not all feel better in the same landscape and weather, or among the same population. We don’t choose where and when we are born, but even before we get here there is already a set of prohibitions in place for when we arrive. And if we complain, we are only invited to shamefully look at those who are even more unlucky. As if it were a matter of luck. As if it weren’t a matter of historical ethnocide, genocide and cold domination. As if it weren’t all the fault of the very same tiny wealthy group that we are all semi-privileged, unprivileged. I don’t aspire to be rich, I aspire to be free.

#creative writing #writing prompt #writing challenge

[marinaandnodiamonds]

Portrait of a Lady in a Red Dress - Gabriël Metsu

30-DAY WRITING PROMPTS CHALLENGE

Day 15: A woman walks into the ocean in a red ball gown.

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THE RED DRESS

There was talk of attempted suicide. There was talk of feverish hallucinations. There was talk of religious miracle. Shut in her room with her family and councillors, she was presented with all three theories and the pros and cons of each. The first, despite the most realistic, was also the most damaging to a young woman looking for a prospective husband. The second sounded like the best option if one could be sure to attribute it to a passing ailment, but it could turn out just as bad as the first should it be generally believed to be some incurable disease. The third required her to become more of a devotee and would definitely attract a lot of attention. They must decide, and they must decide fast, otherwise they would no longer be able to make a decision at all, once word on the street becomes fact there is no turning back. She wanted to tell the truth, but truth is she was bored out of her wits, the heat was unbearable with that heavy dress in that stuffy room, so she just... left. And bathed in the ocean. And she might have gotten away with it had it not been for that godforsaken red dress against that dull dark green landscape. The truth was to trivial to beat gossip, no one would choose to believe it. She sighed. What would you decide?

#creative writing #writing prompt #writing challenge