Ella está por embarcar, quizás consiga un pasaje en la borda. Ella está por despegar ella se va. Ella viaja sin pagar el viejo truco de andar por la sombra. Ella baila sobre el mar, ella se va. Pasajera en trance, pasajera en tránsito perpetuo. Pasajera en trance transitando los lugares ciertos. Un amor real, es cómo dormir y estar despierto. Un amor real es como vivir en aeropuerto.
domingo, 5 de abril de 2009
There was me Alex...
... and my three droogs sat in the Korova milkbar making our rassoodocks what to do The fourof us were dressed in height of fashion, which in those days was a pair of black very tight tights with the old jelly mould, as we called it fitting on the crotch.Our pockets were full of deng, so there was no real need from the piont of crasting any more pretty polly to tolchock some old veck in an ally and viddy him swim in his blood while we countedthe takings and divided by four nor do the ultraviolent on some shivvering starry grey haired ptitsa in a shop and go off with the tills guts. Or as they say...
money isnt everything
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jajaja CLOCKWORK ORANGE
te quierooo
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