Sunday, August 26, 2007
Thievery Corporation & Emiliana Torrini- Heavens Gonna Burn Your Eyes save target as Link || 2 Comments Thursday, August 23, 2007 Sia - Breathe Me save target as Help, I have done it again I have been here many times before Hurt myself again today And, the worst part is there's no-one else to blame Be my friend Hold me, wrap me up Unfold me I am small and needy Warm me up And breathe me Ouch I have lost myself again Lost myself and I am nowhere to be found Yeah I think that I might break Lost myself again and I feel unsafe Be my friend Hold me, wrap me up Unfold me I am small and needy Warm me up And breathe me Link || 3 Comments Friday, August 17, 2007 خانه بدوشی من نمیگذارد عصاره ی هنری هم آغوشی ها را از دست کج زمان برهانم Link || 3 Comments تازگی ها کارگردان با آبجو از بازیگرانش بازی میگیرد متاسفم که این فیلم ها را عموم نخواهند دید زیبایی گاهی برای زیبا ماندن پرده ها را میکشد Link || 0 Comments Hooverphonic - Mad about you save target as Link || 0 Comments Nouvelle Vague - In A Manner Of Speaking save target as Link || 0 Comments Hooverphonic - My Child save target as Link || 0 Comments نار بانو: سپیده ی کاذب گذشته، صبح می آید. فقط بعد از تنهایی هیچ چیز نمی آید. آیلار: شاید تو خانگی نیستی. شاید تو باید همیشه در تالارهای بزرگ رقص باشی و مردان دور و برت هر کدام یک طوری خواستنشان را نشان بدهند و صدای خنده ی رهای تو لابلای چلچراغ ها و روی الماس های تابناک زنان بگردد. شرق بنفشه: از پیرمردی که همیشه در طاق نمایی روبروی سرو قدیمی حافظیه مینشیند، فال میگیرد، پول میگیرد، فال خواستم. گفت: "نیت کن". به دل گفتم: "گوهر یکدانه مان کو؟" دیوان را بوسید، ناخن راند لای آن، لرزید و کتاب را بست. بی حال سرش را تکیه داد به آجر چهارصد سال پیش . با صدایی نزدیک گور گفت: "نمیخوانم، تا حالا نیامده بود. این فال را برای هیچ احد الناسی نمیخوانم ، عهد کرده ام..." گفتم: "پس فهمیده ای عاشق خیال خود بوده ای نه او." با تکان سر حاشا کرد. گفتم: "تو دیگر ریا نکن، عمری برایت باقی نمانده." پرسید: "چه نیتی کرده بودی؟" گفتم: "نیت یک سحرگاه دیگر." راه افتادم. پشت سرم بلند گفت: "حکما پیمانه های زیادی شکسته ای؟" گفتم: "شراب هر کدامشان فقط یک مستی کوتاه بدخمار داشت." بلند شد. سایه ی سرو از رویش رفته بود. گفت: "اصلت تشنه نبوده، اگر بودی با همان اولی مست میشدی، تا ابدالآباد." گفتم: "پس خودت چرا هزار فال گرفته ای، یک فال، یک غزل برای همیشه." Link || 2 Comments
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