Monday, October 31, 2005

The Raven

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore--
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visiter," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door--
Only this and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;--vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow--sorrow for the lost Lenore--
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore--
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me--filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
"'Tis some visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door--
Some late visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door;
This it is and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you"--here I opened wide the door--
Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"--
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping something louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is and this mystery explore--
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;--
'Tis the wind and nothing more.

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he,
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door--
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door--
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then the ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore--
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning--little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door--
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."

But the Raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if its soul in that one word he did outpour
Nothing farther then he uttered; not a feather then he fluttered--
Till I scarcely more than muttered: "Other friends have flown before--
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said "Nevermore."

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore--
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of 'Never--nevermore.'"

But the Raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore--
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee--by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite--respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!--prophet still, if bird or devil!--
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted--
On this home by Horror haunted--tell me truly, I implore--
Is there--is there balm in Gilead?--tell me--tell me, I implore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!--prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us--by that God we both adore--
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore--
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Be that our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting--
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul has spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!--quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadows on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted--nevermore!

Edgar Allan Poe


Sunday, October 30, 2005

happy halloween

© sunday morning

© sunday morning

I Run

I run I run far from
You to the apple tree in my yard
With my dress all bundled up in my hands
Dirt on my feet I am dreaming again
I run I run I run far from
You to the lilac tree in my yard
no more swing set for the girl who is all grown up
no more tea parties parades or mothers in love
I hold my breath past the cemetery
My brother wins he can hold it much longer then me
Gravel roads make car keys rattle on steering wheels
Children and horses old barns and old automobiles
I run I run I run far from
You to the watered streets of Oregon
With a coffee cup half full in my hands
And I’m praying my savior would
Just place a gun in my hands
I run I walk I lie far from
Freaks and lying cheats on the tip of my tongue
The moon hides in the sky behind rows of tree tops
And I’m wishing I was somewhere up there
With the mermaids and stars
I run I run far from
Reality to escape who I’ve become
Insanity is close at my back
And I’m getting rather numb from the snakes
Who have blurred my vision

Rosie Thomas

© sunday morning

Saturday, October 29, 2005


Einsturzende Neubauten


It's not the red of the dying sun
The morning sheets surprising stain
It's not the red of which we bleed
The red of cabernet sauvignon
A world of ruby all in vain
It's not that red
It's not as golden as Zeus famous shower
It doesn't come, not at all, from above
It's in the open but it doesn't get stolen
It's not that gold It's not as golden as memory
Or the age of the same name
It's not that gold
I wish this would be your colour
I wish this would be your colour
I wish this would be your colour
Your colour, I wish
It is as black as malevitch's square
The cold furnace in which we stare
A high pitch on a future scale
It is a starless winter night's tale
It suits you well
It is that black
I wish this would be your colour
I wish this would be your colour
I wish this would be your colour
Your colour,
I wish

(foi um dos melhores concertos este ano)

©Vladimir Clavijo-Telepnev

Friday, October 28, 2005


Antony & The Johnsons
31 de Outubro – 21h00
Coliseu dos Recreios

© sunday morning


The Wheel

THROUGH winter-time we call on spring,
And through the spring on summer call,
And when abounding hedges ring
Declare that winter's best of all;
And after that there s nothing good
Because the spring-time has not come -
Nor know that what disturbs our blood
Is but its longing for the tomb.

William Butler Yeats




Para ver mais videos dos EELS

Thursday, October 27, 2005


Rua Barata Salgueiro,
Dia 29 de Outubro, ás 22h

“A Imperatriz Yang Kwei Fei”
De Kenji Mizoguchi

1955 - 98 min.
legendado em português

"YOKIHI, adaptação de uma história chinesa, situada no século IX, é um dos mais célebres títulos de Mizoguchi e o seu primeiro filme a cores. E essas cores são fabulosas, num filme em que Machiko Kyo dá corpo a um fabuloso retrato feminino, sobre um shakespeariano fundo de lutas de poder e intrigas políticas."



Her haircut, she looked pudgy and made-up
In that dress growing ever tighter
It was saddening the lengths she had gone to
To appear more attractive
In the process losing something
We never knew but still missed
You knew you were lost as soon as you saw her
You saw your life as a series of complicated dance steps
Impossible to learn, they had to come naturally
Together you squirmed and wriggled
And I could only jerk along behind

They're going to hurt you
They always will
She is now with me, inside of you
And I could only stare wide-eyed
As everything closed in around the three of us
Things you never saw, talking of the power and rescue
That were rushing through our body
And it's good

She opened the door his face bruised and swollen
Before he knew, pushed, falling down curved stairs
Our message lost and our plans forgotten
Surrounded by men in suits, and black shiny shoes
Moving in, kicking, stamping
Bland expressionless faces
A handful of marbles thrown in a dustbin
Then released, then released

In a northern town there were amazing rows of standing stones arranged on the southern slope
They got out in the last few seconds of consciousness
Look for their inscriptions one day, the most distant ocean plains, those who make the desert island
I saw you in a tin bath in red water
Were the ones who went to Washington to do their laundry
They wanted to see the mysterious hurricane
I never believed in New York, or where you intended to stand
But we don't actually want to see the shipwrecked
I just had to go
They came



Little Things
Hanne Hukkelberg

" Listeners will delight at immersing themselves in a musical world they thought they knew, savoring its many surprises and taking pleasure in uncovering its hidden layers."
in popmatters

MP3 Balloon
MP3 Ease

Wednesday, October 26, 2005

©yans mjólk

Como Pedra Branca

Como pedra branca no fundo do poço
dentro de mim está uma memória.
Nem quero afastá-la, nem posso:
é sofrimento e é prazer e glória.

Julgo que quem olhar-me bem de perto
dentro em meus olhos logo pode vê-la.
E ficará mais triste e pensativo
que alguém que escute uma anedota obscena.

Eu sei que os deuses metamorfoseavam
os homens em coisas sem tirar-lhes alma.
Para que o espante da tristeza dure sempre,
em coisa da memória te mudei.

Anna Akhmatova

© sunday morning

One More Time

I'd love to touch the sky tonight
I'd love to touch the sky
So take me in your arms
And lift me like a child
And hold me up so high
And never let me go
Take me
Take me in your arms tonight
Hold meHold me up so high
And never let me down
Hold me
Hold me up so high
To touch the sky
Just one more time
Take me in your arms tonight
Take me in your arms
Just one more time
Just one more time
Just one more time

The Cure


Tuesday, October 25, 2005

"Tu estás em mim como eu estive no berço,
como a árvore sob a sua crosta
como o navio no fundo do mar"

Mário Cesariny

©sunday morning

I'll Be Your mirror

I'll be your mirror
Reflect what you are, in case you don't know
I'll be the wind, the rain and the sunset
The light on your door to show that you're home
When you think the night has seen your mind
That inside you're twisted and unkind
Let me stand to show that you are blind
Please put down your hands
'Cause I see youI find it hard to believe you don't know
The beauty that you are
But if you don't let me be your eyes
A hand in your darkness, so you won't be afraid
When you think the night has seen your mind
That inside you're twisted and unkind
Let me stand to show that you are blind
Please put down your hands
'Cause I see youI'll be your mirror

The Velvet Underground & Nico

Monday, October 24, 2005


Thunder, Lightning Strike
The Go! Team

O gato

Um gato, em casa sozinho, sobe
à janela para que, da rua, o

O sol bate nos vidros e
aquece o gato que,imóvel,
parece um objecto.

Fica assim para que o
invejem — indiferente
mesmo que o chamem.

Por não sei que privilégio,
os gatos conhecem
a eternidade.

Nuno Júdice


Antony ft. Boy George "You Are My Sister"

obrigado "O Puto" por ter mostrado o video

©sunday morning

Há sol na rua

Há sol na rua
Gosto do sol mas não gosto da rua
Então fico em casa
À espera que o mundo venha
Com as suas torres douradas
E as suas cascatas brancas
Com suas vozes de lágrimas
E as canções das pessoas que são alegres
Ou são pagas para cantar
E à noite chega um momento
Em que a rua se transforma noutra coisa
E desaparece sob a plumagem
Da noite cheia de talvez
E dos sonhos dos que estão mortos
Então saio para a rua
Ela estende-se até à madrugada
Um fumo espraia-se muito perto
E eu ando no meio da água seca .
Da água áspera da noite fresca
O sol voltará em breve

Boris Vian

Sunday, October 23, 2005

©Siri Kaur


1. 111 Arthur Avenue - Mark Mothersbaugh
2. These Days - Nico
3. String Quartet in F major (Second Movement) - Ysaye Quartet
4. Lindbergh Palace Suite - Mark Mothersbaugh
5. Wigwam - Bob Dylan
6. Look At That Old Grizzly Bear - Mark Mothersbaugh
7. Lullaby - Emitt Rhodes
8. Mothersbaugh's Canon - Mark Mothersbaugh
9. Police & Thieves - The Clash
10. Scrapping and Yelling - Mark Mothersbaugh
11. Judy Is A Punk - Ramones
12. Pagoda's Theme - Mark Mothersbaugh
13. Needle In The Hay - Elliott Smith
14. Fly - Nick Drake
15. I Always Wanted To Be A Tenenbaum - Mark Mothersbaugh
16. Christmas Time Is Here - Vince Guaraldi Trio
17. Stephanie Says - Velvet Underground
18. Rachel Evans Tenenbaum (1965-2000) - Mark Mothersbaugh
19. Sparkplug Minuet - Mark Mothersbaugh
20. The Fairest Of The Seasons - Nico

esta banda sonora muito boa do filme também muito bom The Royal Tenenbaums,
foi a primeira vez ouvi
Elliot Smith

Needle in The Hay

Your hand on his arm
The hay stack charm around your neck
Strung out and thin
Calling some friend trying to cash some check
He's acting dumbThat's what you've come to expect
Needle in the hayNeedle in the hay
Needle in the hayNeedle in the hay
He's wearing your clothes
Head down to toes a reaction to you
You say you know what he did
But you idiot kid
You don't have a clue
Sometimes they just get caught in the eye
You're pulling him through
Needle in the hay
Needle in the hay
Needle in the hay
Needle in the hay
Now on the bus
Nearly touching this dirty retreat
Falling out 6th and powell a dead sweat in my teeth
Gonna walk walk walk
Four more blocks plus one in my break
Down downstairs to the man
He's gonna make it all ok
I can't beat myselfI can't beat myself
And I don't want to talkI'm taking the cure so I can be quiet
Whenever I want
So leave me alone
You ought to be proud that I'm getting good marks
Needle in the hay
Needle in the hay
Needle in the hay
Needle in the hay

Elliott Smith

Saturday, October 22, 2005

"To die would mean nothing else than to surrender a nothing to the nothing, but that would be impossible to conceive, for how could a person, even only as a nothing, consciously surrender himself to the nothing, and not merely to an empty nothing but rather to a roaring nothing whose nothingness consists only in its incomprehensibility."
Franz Kafka

Friday, October 21, 2005


You Are My Sister

You are my sister, we were born
So innocent, so full of need
There were times we were friends but times I was so cruel
Each night I'd ask for you to watch me as I sleep
I was so afraid of the night
You seemed to move through the places that
I feared You lived inside my world so softly
Protected only by the kindness of your nature
You are my sister
And I love you
May all of your dreams come true
We felt so differently then
So similar over the years
The way we laugh the way we experience pain
So many memories But theres nothing left to gain from remembering
Faces and worlds that no one else will ever know
You are my sister
And I love you
May all of your dreams come true
I want this for you
They're gonna come true (gonna come true)

Antony and the Johnsons

obrigada de teres enviado a música claudia, foi uma bonita prenda de anos

©Angie Buckley

Poem For My 43rd Birthday

To end up alone
in a tomb of a room
without cigarettes
or wine--
just a light
bulband a potbelly,
and glad to have
the room. the morning
they're out there
making money:
judges, carpenters,
plumbers, doctors,
newsboys, policemen,
barbers, carwashers,
dentists, florists,waitresses, cooks,
cabdrivers... and you turn over
to your left side
to get the sun
on your back
and out
of your eyes.

Charles Bukowski

©bonnie portelance

Thursday, October 20, 2005


I Feel Like the Mother of the World
» Realplayer video - 56k
» Realplayer video - 128k

Space Oddity

Ground Control to Major Tom Ground Control to Major Tom
Take your protein pills and put your helmet on
Ground Control to Major Tom
Commencing countdown, engines on
Check ignition and may
God's love be with you
Ten, Nine, Eight, Seven, Six, Five, Four, Three, Two, One, Liftoff
This is Ground Control to Major Tom
You've really made the grade
And the papers want to know whose shirts you wear
Now it's time to leave the capsule if you dare
This is Major Tom to Ground Control
I'm stepping through the door
And I'm floating in a most peculiar way
And the stars look very different today
For here Am I sitting in a tin can
Far above the world
Planet Earth is blue
And there's nothing I can do
Though I'm past one hundred thousand miles
I'm feeling very still
And I think my spaceship knows which way to go
Tell my wife I love her very much she knows
Ground Control to Major Tom Your
circuit's dead, there's something wrong
Can you hear me, Major Tom?
Can you hear me, Major Tom?
Can you hear me, Major Tom?
Can you.... Here am I floating round my tin can
Far above the Moon Planet Earth is blue
And there's nothing I can do.



Wednesday, October 19, 2005


Título original: Sunrise
De: F.W. Murnau
Argumento: Carl Mayer, Hermann Sudermann
Com: Bodil Rosing, George OBrien, Janet Gaynor
EUA, 1927

"Jóia do cinema mudo e um dos mais belos filmes da História do Cinema, este é o primeiro filme americano do alemão F.W. Murnau. É uma história de amor e reconciliação, "a song of two humans" como diz o subtítulo do filme. Um agricultor tenta afogar a mulher, seduzido por uma mulher da cidade, mas desiste no último momento. Ela foge para a cidade, mas ele segue-a para provar o seu amor. "

©sean kernan

Tuesday, October 18, 2005

©Annie Leibovitz


Este que vês, de cores desprovido,
o meu retrato sem primores é
e dos falsos temores já despido
em sua luz oculta põe a fé.

Do oculto sentido dolorido,
este que vês, lúcido espelho é
e do passado o grito reduzido,
o estrago oculto pela mão da fé.

Oculto nele e nele convertido
do tempo ido excusa o cruel trato,
que o tempo em tudo apaga o sentido;

E do meu sonho transformado em acto,
do engano do mundo já despido,este que vês, é o meu retrato

Ana Hatherly



O Acossado
de Jean-Luc Godard
com Jean-Paul Belmondo, Jean Seberg, Daniel Boulanger, Roger Hanin
França, 1959

"Michel Poiccard (
Jean-Paul Belmondo), um fora da lei em fuga das autoridades francesas, que se modela em Humphrey Bogart. Desejoso de escapar para Roma, apenas se quer certificar de que Patricia Franchini (Jean Seberg), uma americana com quem partilha uma relação muito peculiar, o acompanha na viagem."

"Um dos filmes que inaugura oficialmente a Nouvelle Vague e o cinema moderno, um marco na história do cinema pelas mudanças que trouxe. Mudanças no modo de filmar, na narrativa fragmentada e "desconexa", nas referências directas ao cinema e à colagem de citações, que caracterizará o cinema de Godard e de todos os cineastas que dele descendem."

citações do filmes:

Michel Poiccard: Reminds me of the one about the condemned man. Climbing the scaffold stairs, he trips, and says, "In the future... "

Patricia Franchini: It's sad to fall asleep. It separates people. Even when you're sleeping together, you're all alone.

Monday, October 17, 2005

The Pillow Book
filme do realizador
Peter Greenaway


HOW they are provided for upon the earth, (appearing at intervals;)
How dear and dreadful they are to the earth;
How they inure to themselves as much as to any, What a paradox appears their age;
How people respond to them, yet know them not;
How there is something relentless in their fate, all times;
How all times mischoose the objects of their adulation and reward,
And how the same inexorable price must still be paid for the same great purchase.

Walt Whitman

©Bernard Faucon

Naked As We Came

She says "wake up, it's no use pretending"
I'll keep stealing, breathing her
Birds are leaving over autumn's ending
One of us will die inside these arms
Eyes wide open, naked as we came
One will spread our ashes round the yard
She says "if I leave before you, darling
Don't you waste me in the ground"
I lay smiling like our sleeping children
One of us will die inside these arms
Eyes wide open, naked as we came
One will spread our ashes round the yard

Iron And Wine

©Bernard Faucon

Sunday, October 16, 2005

A Forest

come closer and see
see into the trees
find the girlwhile you can
come closer and see
see into the darkjust follow your eyes
just follow your eyes
i hear her voice
calling my name
the sound is deep
in the darki hear her voice
and start to runinto the trees
into the trees
into the trees
suddenly i stop
but i know it's too late
i'm lost in a forest
all alonethe girl was never there
it's always the samei'm running towards nothing
again and again and again

the cure

©Keith Carter

Saturday, October 15, 2005

Le Tourbillon De La Vie

Elle avait des bagues à chaque doigt,
Des tas de bracelets autour des poignets,
Et puis elle chantait avec une voix
Qui, sitôt, m'enjôla.
Elle avait des yeux, des yeux d'opale,
Qui me fascinaient, qui me fascinaient.
Y avait l'ovale de son visage pâle
De femme fatale qui m'fut fatale
On s'est connus, on s'est reconnus,
On s'est perdus de vue, on s'est r'perdus d'vue
On s'est retrouvés, on s'est réchauffés,
Puis on s'est séparés.
Chacun pour soi est reparti.
Dans l'tourbillon de la vie
Je l'ai revue un soir, hàie, hàie, hàie
Ça fait déjà un fameux bail
Au son des banjos je l'ai reconnue.
Ce curieux sourire qui m'avait tant plu.
Sa voix si fatale, son beau visage pâle
M'émurent plus que jamais.
Je me suis soûlé en l'écoutant.
L'alcool fait oublier le temps.
Je me suis réveillé en sentant
Des baisers sur mon front brûlant
On s'est connus, on s'est reconnus.
On s'est perdus de vue, on s'est r'perdus de vue
On s'est retrouvés, on s'est séparés.
Dans le tourbillon de la vie.
On a continué à toumer
Tous les deux enlacés
Tous les deux enlacés.
Puis on s'est réchauffés.
Chacun pour soi est reparti.
Dans l'tourbillon de la vie.
Je l'ai revue un soir ah là là
Elle est retombée dans mes bras.
Quand on s'est connus,
Quand on s'est reconnus,
Pourquoi se perdre de vue,
Se reperdre de vue ?
Quand on s'est retrouvés,
Quand on s'est réchauffés,
Pourquoi se séparer ?
Alors tous deux on est repartis
Dans le tourbillon de la vie
On à continué à tourner
Tous les deux enlacés
Tous les deux enlacés.

Vanessa Paradis

música que faz parte da banda sonora do filme Jules et Jim do realizador Francois Truffaut

©Loretta Lux

Friday, October 14, 2005


Apologies to the Queen Mary
A banda canadiana de Montreal é composto por Dan Boeckner, Spencer Krug, Hadji Bakara,e Arlen Thompson

este albúm é imprescendivel e a música modern world é fantástca

Thursday, October 13, 2005


A Sombra do Caçador
Título original: The Night Of The Hunter
De: Charles Laughton
Com: Billy Chapin, Lillian Gish, Robert Mitchum, Shelley Winters
Género: Dra, Estúdios: United Artists
EUA, 1955, Preto e Branco, 90 min

"Mitchum interpreta aquele que alguns consideram ter sido o melhor papel da sua vida de actor, dando alma e corpo à figura de Harry Powell, um pastor protestante vigarista e libertado da prisão que decide roubar 10 mil dólares à viúva de um condenado à forca"


"Computer Geek"



Ontem fui ver antestreia, O Castelo Andante do Hayao Miyazaki
Este filme é mais um exemplo magnifico da capacidade criativa do Hayao
Um mundo rico em promenores, onde habita uma variedade de personagens tão distintas e únicas, é um mundo que adorava visitar.

O Castelo Andante
Título original: Hauru no Ugoku Shiro
De: Hayao Miyazaki
Argumento: Hayao Miyazaki, Diana Wynne Jones
Com: Chieko Baisho (Voz), Takuya Kimura (Voz), Akihiro Miwa (Voz)

"Sophie, de dezoito anos, é a mais velha de três irmãs. Ela está a aprender como fazer chapéus para as pessoas de Ingary, um local mágico. Trabalhando sem descanso na loja (que pertencera ao falecido pai), a jovem Sophie, numa rara saída para ir à cidade, encontra o feiticeiro malvado Howl, o dono do castelo preto que se vê a mover por entre as montanhas. Com base neste encontro, a "Witch of the Waste" interpreta a relação dos dois de modo errado, e por isso transforma a jovem numa velhota de 90 anos. Nesta condição, Sophie sai da sua casa e vagueia pelas redondezas, onde, ao acaso, acaba por entrar no castelo de Howl. Escondendo a sua verdadeira identidade, a rapariga instala-se no castelo como uma velha senhora de limpezas"
tirado do site c7nema