Through my blue fingers, pink grains are falling, haphazard, random, a disorganized stream of silicone that seems pregnant with the possibility of every conceivable shape
…But this is illusion. Things have their shape in time, not space alone. Some marble blocks have statues within them embedded in their future.
It is dreadful when something weighs on your mind, not to have a soul to unburden yourself to. You know what I mean. I tell my piano the things I used to tell you.
— Frédéric Chopin
And it wears me out, it wears me out.
And if I could be who you wanted.
If I could be who you wanted,
all the time.
— Thom Yorke
And my life slowly becomes “The Bends”
— My friend (Talking about growing up.)
el eclipse no fue parcial,
y cego nuestras miradas.
te vi que llorabas, te vi que llorabas,
— (via franenbuscadelafelicidad)
Crimen - Gustavo Cerati from Ahi Vamos