“En mi primavera la nube gris baja” es un verso de
Juan Ramón Jiménez en Baladas de
primavera.
La primavera tiene un poco de eso: nubes grises y
sol, luz y oscuridad, sueños y pesadillas. Supongo que lo importante es disfrutar
todas y cada una de esas cosas. En eso ando
Os dejo con otro puñado de cosas que me han gustado:
El nuevo disco de The last shadow puppets salió
este viernes y no sé las veces que lo he escuchado ya. Adoro a estos chicos.
Un proyecto de
dos fotógrafos instalados en partes diferentes del mundo con una foto hecha por
cada uno de ellos en el mismo instante.
Pronto tendréis un post sobre estos dos: El oro blanco
y Autobiografía en rojo.
La casa
de Louise Bourgeois se ha abierto al público. Otra razón para volver a
Nueva York.
Termino con esta canción llamada The dream synopsis porque este blog no es más que un resumen de mis
sueños. Recuerdo el año 2008, tan importante para mí, cuando escuchaba y volvía
a escuchar el anterior disco de Alex Turner y Miles Kane: The Age of Understatement. Han pasado muchas cosas desde entonces,
entre otras, todo lo maravilloso con este blog desde el que os escribo. Y me
doy cuenta de ello, pero como os he dicho en otras ocasiones, me sigo moviendo
porque sé que vendrán lugares más luminosos. Como dice la canción: “tengo un
sentimiento, empiezo a correr, no importa por qué lo hago, en realidad, nunca
lo supe”, y yo añado: pero no hay quien me pare.
Well we were kissing it was
secret
We’d had to sneak beyond the kitchen
Both well aware that there’d be trouble
If the manager should find us
You’d got a leaning tower of pint pots in your hand
You can carry much more than I can
And a wicked gale came howling up through
Sheffield City Centre
There was palm tree debris everywhere and a Roman Colosseum
Isn’t it boring when I talk about my dreams
I’m in a building and I notice
That I’m surrounded by the ocean
I get a feeling, I start running
Don’t really know why I am running
I never really know why I am running
‘til I get caught
Want to wake up to my dream report?
And the snow was falling thick and fast
We were bombing down Los Feliz
It was You and Me and Miles Kane
And some kid I went to school with
Isn't it ugly when I talk about my…
Visions of the past and possible future
Shoot through my mind and I can’t let go
Inseparable opposing images
When can you come back again?
And a wicked gale came howling up through
Sheffield City Centre
There was palm tree debris everywhere and a Roman Colosseum
Isn't it awful when I talk about my dreams
It must be torture when I talk about my dreams
We’d had to sneak beyond the kitchen
Both well aware that there’d be trouble
If the manager should find us
You’d got a leaning tower of pint pots in your hand
You can carry much more than I can
And a wicked gale came howling up through
Sheffield City Centre
There was palm tree debris everywhere and a Roman Colosseum
Isn’t it boring when I talk about my dreams
I’m in a building and I notice
That I’m surrounded by the ocean
I get a feeling, I start running
Don’t really know why I am running
I never really know why I am running
‘til I get caught
Want to wake up to my dream report?
And the snow was falling thick and fast
We were bombing down Los Feliz
It was You and Me and Miles Kane
And some kid I went to school with
Isn't it ugly when I talk about my…
Visions of the past and possible future
Shoot through my mind and I can’t let go
Inseparable opposing images
When can you come back again?
And a wicked gale came howling up through
Sheffield City Centre
There was palm tree debris everywhere and a Roman Colosseum
Isn't it awful when I talk about my dreams
It must be torture when I talk about my dreams
