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FRAGMENTS


Allegra

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Posted (edited)
sto nisi stavio pesmu koja je ispod slike [mada je u Nostalgiji receno da je umetnost neprevodiva]
Zato što sam u datom momentu slušao onu drugu

bettie-page-older2.jpgEDIT + i mujščka pratnja, 1 vanvremenski greg lejkhttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yoxHGxQw9ws

Edited by Indy
Posted
It was shortly after the British Red Cross arrived, though it may have no connection, that a very large quantity of lipstick arrived. This was not at all what we men wanted, we were screaming for hundreds and thousands of other things and I don't know who asked for lipstick. I wish so much that I could discover who did it, it was the action of genius, sheer unadulterated brilliance. I believe nothing did more for these internees than the lipstick. Women lay in bed with no sheets and no nightie but with scarlet red lips, you saw them wandering about with nothing but a blanket over their shoulders, but with scarlet red lips. I saw a woman dead on the post mortem table and clutched in her hand was a piece of lipstick. At last someone had done something to make them individuals again, they were someone, no longer merely the number tatooed on the arm. At last they could take an interest in their appearance. That lipstick started to give them back their humanity.~ Lt. Col. Mervin Willett Gonin DSO on the Holocaust
http://afterall.net/quotes/490829
Posted
Vagabond Holes Holes in my body, holes in my shoesYou can put your fingers in meLet the north wind blow straight throughWhen you left I almost disappearedNow you've gone, I'm not quite hereMy friends say they call me, but there's nobody homeAnd they say talking to me these daysIs like squeezing blood from a stoneThey say I'm fading fast, my signal's weakYou told me to forget about us,I just forgot how to speakHoles in my body holes in my shoesWho can mend these vagabond holes?No one's going to love you when you're wrinkled and oldNo teeth in your gums, your hair the colour of snowUp two flights of stairs to your ten dollar roomWith the smell of all your cats and dustAnd the newspapers strewnHoles filled with whiskey, holes filled with damp and mouldDays get short, and the nights get coldDays go missing when the bottle closes inWeak grow sickly and the sick grow thinHoles in my body, holes in my shoesWho can mend these vagebond holes?

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