Saturday, March 29, 2008

Friday, March 28, 2008

Wednesday, March 26, 2008

Paulina Morales: You're weak, Ivan.
Iván: Yes, sweetheart.
Paulina Morales: Don't agree with me.
Iván: But you're right.
Paulina Morales: Sometimes I like to be wrong.

in
Mujeres al borde de un ataque de niervos,
Pedro Almodóvar

Monday, March 24, 2008

Friday, March 14, 2008

Pale September, I wore the time like a dress that year
The autumn days swung soft around me, like cotton on my skin
But as the embers of the summer lost their breath and disappeared
My heart went cold and only hollow rhythms resounded from within
But then he rose, brilliant as the moon in full
And sank in the burrows of my keep

And all my armour falling down, in a pile at my feet
And my winter giving way to warm, as I'm singing him to sleep

He goes along just as a water lily
Gentle on the surface of his thoughts his body floats

Unweighted down by passion or intensity
Yet unaware of the depth upon which he coasts
And he finds a home in me
For what misfortune sows, he knows my touch will reap

And all my armour failing down, in a pile at my feet
And my winter giving way to warm, as I'm singing him to sleep
All my armour falling down, in a pile at my feet
And my winter giving way to warm, as I'm singing him to sleep

Fiona Apple
"The most interesting things about the so-called lies of Diego is that, sooner or later, the ones involved in the imaginary tale get angry, not because of the lies, but because of the truth contained in the lies, which always comes forth."

Frida Kahlo

Wednesday, March 05, 2008

Tuesday, March 04, 2008