Esse foi um bom fim de semana, depois de uma semana caótica.

Ontem foi um dia perfeito. Tinha um céu lindo, bem azul, com poucas nuvens. E tava frio, com um ventinho gelado.

Eu amo dias assim. Tem um certo conforto em um dia gelado, mas em que o sol brilha. O cheiro do café da manhã alcança lugares mais distantes. Os sons da manhã são mais macios.

Os sentimentos ficam mais aguçados, e os sentimentos também. Eu saí para levar as roupas na lavanderia, e o dono do bar ao lado da minha casa já estava abrindo o negócio dele. A gente trocou nosso bom dia antes de eu descer a escadaria. Na lavanderia, a mesma coisa. Existe uma calma em manhãs que a temperatura é fria, mas o céu acalenta.

Durante a pandemia, eu pensei muito se aquele tempo ia sinalizar o fim da ideia de “comunidade”, de se sentir parte de uma comunidade no nosso dia-a-dia. Os dias ficaram mais impessoais durante aqueles anos. Usávamos máscaras e saíamos só quando era necessário. Eu morria de medo de não conseguir me aproximar dos meus novos vizinhos por causa disso. Mas é tudo questão de tempo. Em algumas semanas, eu e o dono do bar do lado da minha casa já tinhamos um acordo que nunca foi falado — quando eu chego tarde em casa, nós trocamos um aceno e ele me pergunta se tá tudo bem. O mesmo vale com a moça da lavanderia, e a senhora da padaria. Eu nunca consegui ter uma aproximação com a mulher do mini-mercado perto da minha casa, mas até isso é um conforto (não são todos os que a gente consegue se aproximar nos nossos dias).

Dias assim, que tiram a incomodação do calor que durou quase seis meses nessa primavera e nesse verão, dão mais espaço pra calma. Ou vai ver, como a Bruna me comentou, é a paz inerente da chegada dos 30, em que incertezas se tornam insignificantes porque a vida não nos dá muito tempo — ou vontade — de ficar ponderando decisões não tomadas. Meus vizinhos, as primeiras pessoas que eu vejo no dia (e geralmente as últimas também), continuam ali. Nossos acordos, alguns nunca falados e outros acertados, vigoram.

Esse domingo foi outro dia frio, mas dessa vez foi nublado. É um outro tipo de dia que eu adoro. A manhã começa mais cedo, e dura um bocadinho a mais. O dia demora mais pra começar, e ninguém culpa ninguém por isso. Há um silêncio comunitário no ar — é um dia de pouco barulho, de muito sono. O cheiro do café fica no ar por mais tempo. Os sons abafados, também.

Vi o meu melhor amigo andando na rua agora. Tenho certeza de que ele não me viu. Não nos vemos há anos. Mesmo assim, é sempre bom ver ele.

April

apoemaday:

by Mary Oliver

I wanted to speak at length about
the happiness of my body and the
delight of my mind for it was
April, a night, a
full moon and –

but something in myself or maybe
from somewhere other said: not too
many words, please, in the
muddy shallows the

Frogs are singing.

www.xda-developers.com

Eu tinha reprimido esquecido completamente desse programa, mas ele foi um dos programas que meu pai usou para ensinar eu e minha irmã a usar o computador que ele levou pra nossa casa no fim dos anos 90.

Hoje eu lembrei que a Vivi gostava de se tapar na hora de dormir. Eu tinha esquecido desse detalhe.

The Boundless Legacy of ‘Breath of the Wild’

The Boundless Legacy of ‘The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild’ - The Ringer

After ‘Breath of the Wild,’ open-world games can be split into two camps: those that share its philosophy of total freedom and those that don’t

www.theringer.com

Lewis Gordon, The Ringer:

On the one hand, a sense of adventure that has few peers in video games: wanderlust, dread, the sublime, all achieved within a vast, meticulously designed open world. On the other, systems and mechanics that combine in such a way that they both react physically to the player and seem to exist independently of them, alternately inspiring awe and glee and making a virtual setting feel truly alive.

By the mid-2010s, Ubisoft’s icon-filled open-world “map games” (a pejorative term expressing players’ frustration with having to scour a map to find things to do rather than looking at the world itself) had reached their logical extremes

[…]

At their most cynical, these ballooning virtual spaces appeared less like living, breathing worlds than sites to consume ever more content.

Breath of the Wild was born from a crystalline picture: Link climbing a cliff before paragliding to the ground below, moving seamlessly from rock to air, and then, finally, landing comfortably on terra firma. There was more, though: survival and what director Hidemaro Fujibayashi called the “creativity of combination”—for example, lighting wood with fire to create a larger bonfire. The Zelda series, whose game mechanics were usually so precise and predictable, would open itself up to the natural elements. In the process, it would have to embrace a degree of chaos and chance.

Central to the game’s production was figuring out how such a world should behave. After all, a space that lacks consequence, friction, or discord is arguably one without life.

What Nintendo’s game gave Kythreotis, beyond direction about how this mechanic should function, was a sense of belief—not just in himself and Fineberg, but in the player, who with expanded input would become more of a “collaborator in the experience.”

Maybe Breath of the Wild is the Platonic ideal of a type of action game that almost everyone who has ever picked up a controller has envisioned: one in which a lone warrior explores a mythic landscape that responds to their actions in a meaningful way. […] Perhaps because Nintendo operates according to its own set of rules, forgoing the graphical arms race to focus on design, it was able to burrow deeper than anyone else into the systems that bring such a game to life. As Kythreotis stresses, “Zelda is never trying to be a film. It wants to tell its story through systems and mechanics. It embraces video games as a form.”

derinthescarletpescatarian:

thebelovedlion:

derinthescarletpescatarian:

theknightlywolfe:

findingfeather:

lemon-badgeress:

stele3:

pa-pa-plasma:

ajarofpickledtears:

birdsareblooming:

dacavendishtime:

birdsareblooming:

zarabithia:

utah-mountain-drifter:

jooshthepunished:

mr-system-of-a-downer:

trojanhorse8-2:

supreme-leader-stoat:

trojanhorse8-2:

bohemiandragoness:

whencartoonsruletheworld:

did i tell u guys i got into an argument on twitter bc i said foxes are dogs and someone tried to bring up their actual fuckin. classification or whatever and i just said “foxes are dogs cause they are fluffye” and they kept arguing with me. the entire time i was like “you will not survive the immigration to tumblr you are lucky we are not there right now”

This is especially funny because they aren’t even right. Foxes *ARE* dogs.

No they aren’t.

yes they are. because they are fluffye.

OK yes they are.

Dog

Dog

Different family, but same order as @pictures-of-dogs

No, they are the same family. They are the same kingdom, phylum, order and family. They separate at the genus.

They’re a dog.

yeah they’re fluffye

theyre literally not dogs theyre not even fluffy. can we get science tumblr over hear or what!?

checkmate athiests

fluffye

okay but they literally are dogs, for those who are confused

If foxes are dogs, then so are wolves, coyotes, dingoes, jackals, and several other extant and extinct species.

Behold! A dog.

of course it’s a dog you buffoon. it’s fluffye.

Why on earth would someone think “BUT IF THEY’RE DOGS SO AR -”

Like yes of course wolves are dogs, where have you been. Jackals are excellent doggies! So are coyotes. Why is this confusing.

I love that this is literally two completely different arguments running simultaneously.

That guy up there who said they’re not even fluffy was thinking of sharks

sharks are also dogs. ravenous water dogs, but still dogs

Sharks can NOT be dogs they are SMOOTH

Uma coisa que acho que agradaria todo o mundo com a próxima geração do Nintendo Switch seria “mover” as bibliotecas do Nintendo 64 e do Game Boy Advance para o plano normal do Nintendo Switch Online, e trazer GameCube e Nintendo DS pro Pacote de Expansão.