La noche.
La Guinness.
La portada del Dark Side.
La tierra mojada.
Los dibujos a lápiz.
El chocolate.
La bola 8.
Los bemoles del piano.
La obsidiana que tapa secretos.
Spider-man 3.
El pelo de Mafalda.
Los lentes de mi papá.
Mi playera favorita.
El blues.
El traje del Padrino.
El café.
Los piratas.
El vinil.
Los cuervos de Van Gogh.
El humor de Woody Allen.
Miles Davis.
Mi estrella.
Este post.
Jim Botón.
Posts
10 comments:
¿el café es negro? No. Aunque entre más negro se vea sabe mejor.
Yo tenía un Jim Botón al que bautizé "gato". Se fue hace poco, lastima, el minino más chido que he tenido.
Negro es ausencia de luz.
Saludos colega!
Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens
Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens
Brown paper packages tied up with strings
These are a few of my favorite things
Cream colored ponies and crisp apple streudels
Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles
Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings
These are a few of my favorite things
Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes
Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes
Silver white winters that melt into springs
These are a few of my favorite things
When the dog bites
When the bee stings
When I'm feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I don't feel so bad
I see a red door and I want it painted black
No colors anymore I want them to turn black
I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes
I have to turn my head until my darkness goes
I see a line of cars and theyre all painted black
With flowers and my love both never to come back
I see people turn their heads and quickly look away
Like a new born baby it just happens evry day
I look inside myself and see my heart is black
I see my red door and it has been painted black
Maybe then Ill fade away and not have to face the facts
Its not easy facin up when your whole world is black
No more will my green sea go turn a deeper blue
I could not foresee this thing happening to you
If I look hard enough into the settin sun
My love will laugh with me before the mornin comes
I see a red door and I want it painted black
No colors anymore I want them to turn black
I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes
I have to turn my head until my darkness goes
Hmm, hmm, hmm,...
I wanna see it painted, painted black
Black as night, black as coal
I wanna see the sun blotted out from the sky
I wanna see it painted, painted, painted, painted black
Yeah!
R S
Qué chingón post.
Oscuro.
Como los hoyos negros en el espacio.
Como Black Spring de Henry Miller.
Como los discos de Black Sabbath y de Black Flag y de Black Rebel Motorcycle Club.
Como Back in Black de AC/DC.
Black is black.
Como el ano del Diablo.
Los cuervos de Van Gogh suena a poesía... uff! casi me vengo!
yo agregarîa a la lista los tennis de gala = Converse negros.
a mi me gusta pasearme por mariposas multicolores: fondo oscuro de mis propios cuadros.
Oh!! y cómo olvidar al Minino: La G: negra como la muerte, voy a decir aquí: de suerte o destino extravagante...
auchhh! duele!
amo a miles davis como no te imaginas
Negro ... como el corazón de la chica me rompió el idem.
ssm.
Gracias por tu visita.
Solo una observacion, te falto…
El negro Durazo.
No es lo mismo un metro de encaje negro....
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