Even better.

And when I squinted the world seemed rose-tinted, and angels appeared to descend. To my surprise, with half-closed eyes, things looked even better than when they were open.

Martin Gore, Waiting for the night, Depeche Mode.

Stade de France, Paris, 27.06.09.


A real RocknRolla.

People ask the question... what's a RocknRolla? And I tell 'em - it's not about drums, drugs, and hospital drips, oh no. There's more there than that, my friend. We all like a bit of the good life - some the money, some the drugs, other the sex game, the glamour, or the fame. But a RocknRolla, oh, he's different. Why? Because a real RocknRolla wants the fucking lot.

RocknRolla (2008), Guy Ritchie.


Fish, chips, cup 'o tea, bad food, worse weather, Mary fucking Poppins... LONDON!

Snatch (2000), Guy Ritchie.


Next to me.

Come and open up your folding chair next to me.
My feet are buried in the sand and there's a breeze.
There’s a shadow, you can't see my eyes,
and the sea is just a wetter version of the skies.

Folding Chair, Far, Regina Spektor.

Stanley Kubrick.

So Steven Spielberg dies and goes to heaven and when he get to the gates he meets Gabriel who says, "It's great to meet you. God really loves your work, if there's anything you need come to meet me I'm your man". And Steven says, "Well, you know, I always wanted to meet Stanley Kubrick, do you think you could arrange that? And Gabriel looks at him and he says, "You know Steven, of all the things you could for why would you asked for that? You know Stanley doesn't take meetings. "Well, you said it it was anything I wanted." And Gabriel says, "I'm sorry, I can't do that". Later that day Gabriel is giving a guided tour around heaven when Steven sees this bearded guy wearing an army jacket, riding a bicycle and Steven says to Gabriel, "Oh my God, look over there, that's Stanley Kubrick, couldn't we just stop and say hello?" and Gabriel pulls Steven to the side and says, "That's not Stanley Kubrick, that's God, he just thinks he is Stanley Kubrick."

WhiteChapel Art Gallery Cafe.


You got to cry without weeping. Talk without speaking. Scream without raising your voice.

Running to Stand Still, The Joshua Tree, U2.


Hoy, 16 horas, saliendo del Old Spitalfields Market camino a St. Paul.


Sin molestar a nadie.

Cuando comprendió el carácter definitivo de aquel abandono, el poeta reparó en unas tristezas nuevas, que no había experimentado nunca, ni siquiera ante la ausencia de sus novias más clásicas. Por un instante, sintió la tentación de escribirle o de llamarla por teléfono para revelarle un amor que nunca se había verbalizado. Pero no lo hizo. Largos años de sabiduría amorosa le decían que las personas que abandonan no desean oír declaraciones del abandonado. Se dispuso entonces a sufrir el silencio sin molestar a nadie con sus esperanzas.

Alejandro Dolina, Bar del Infierno, La Conversión de los Descreídos.