La encarnación crea aislamiento, el aislamiento crea diferencia, la diferencia crea comparación, la comparación crea inquietud, la inquietud crea asombro, el asombro crea admiración y la admiración crea deseo de intercambio y unión.
—Thomas Mann
Tonight I’ll burn the lyrics,
cause every chorus was your name
Break this tired old routine,
and this time don’t make me leave
I am a breathing time machine,
I’ll take you on for a ride.
The Avett Brothers —>
Frànçois & The Atlas Mountains
FRIENDS
First Times
Kissed a girl
Felt Jealous
My First Times Places
Got Scared
Made a Friend Cry
Make Your Own Memories!
Las observaciones y vivencias del solitario taciturno son a la vez más borrosas y penetrantes que las del hombre sociable, y sus pensamientos, más graves, extraños y nunca exentos de cierto halo de tristeza. Ciertas imágenes e impresiones de las que sería fácil desprenderse con una mirada, una sonrisa o un intercambio de opiniones, le preocupan más de lo debido, adquieren profundidad e importancia en su silencio y devienen vivencia, aventura, sentimiento. La soledad hace madurar lo original, lo audaz e inquietantemente bello, el poema. Pero también engendra lo erróneo, desproporcionado, absurdo e ilícito.
My love is the flower that lies among the graves,
my love is the thousand souls that it saves
And all the insane madmen tell me I’m not as love behaves
Lay me not in lands of men, just spread my ash along the way
I wanna feel the tide pull through me, like a women drunk as sin
I wanna feel the fish swim through me, let the water tag my skin
Wrapped around the pebble that you choose to warm your hand
Just as I dream everyday
As I pray you’ll understand.
I never asked to be your mountain…
I never asked to fly
Remember when you came to me
And told me of his lies
You didn’t understand my love
You don’t know why I try
And the rain was falling on that day
And damn the reason why
…………………………………
Oh flying flying fish
Please flutter by my door
Yes you can drink my lies
If first you read my eyes
Each one is titled
I’m drowning back to you
I can’t swim your waters
And you can’t walk my lands
I’m sailing all my sins
And I’m climbing all my fears
And soon now I’ll fly…
¿Todos aspiramos a una felicidad burguesa?
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