terça-feira, 23 de fevereiro de 2010

Metade de mim é todo mundo.
Metade é ninguém, poço sem fundo.


2 comentários:

ju coniglio disse...

me lembrou um trecho de uma música que eu adoro e que é assim:

once there was a stranger who stop me in the street, he told me love was in his hand and then he ceased to be.
when i loooked the other way he split himself in two and part of him just runned away, the other part won't move.
so take a look inside your head and tell me what you see. is the stranger waiting there singing you to sleep?

Marta disse...

pra mim veio uma palavra: angústia.