Interlude
On Air Quoyle: Intermezzo Cavalleria Rusticana
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Shapes of my hearth
Delves into the piano.
Message in a Bottle
Just a castaway
An island lost at sea
Another lonely day
With no one here but me
More loneliness
Than any man Could bear
Rescue me before I fall into despairI'll send an SOS to the world
I'll send an SOS to the world
I Hope that someone gets my
Message in a BottleA year has passed since I wrote my notes
But I Should have known this right from the start
Only hope can keep me together
Love can mend your life
But love can break your heartI'll send an SOS to the world
I'll send an SOS to the world
I Hope that someone gets my
Message in a BottleWalked out this morning
Do not believe what I saw
A hundred billion bottles
Washed up on the shore
Seems I'm not alone at being alone
A hundred billion casatways
Looking for a homeI'll send an SOS to the world
I'll send an SOS to the world
I Hope that someone gets my
Message in a BottleSending out an SOS
On Air Quoyle: Message in a Bottle
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To the south of the border (before I was to the west of the sun)
The illusions of the past no longer have helped me, they would not create dreams for me. All that remained was the void, the void that simply had accompanied me for years and whom I had tried to adapt. I was back to square one, I thought, and I had to get used to it. Now it was up to me to create dreams for others, this would be my new job. I did not know the power of these dreams, but if my life had meaning, was to continue with all my strength to this work. Maybe. (Haruki Murakami)
It 's been so long since I even effort to write something that tells the feelings that I'm wearing. You get used to the emptiness, or fills the void of useless junk, and time passes, inevitably, a month, four, nine, two years, four years and then suddenly you find yourself in front of what you built, or the nothing. What does all this frenzy, all these reports that daily take energy, all that work hard for reasons that I disagree and do not understand. How can you ignore this emptiness, desolation that once you've touched. You can not just go back, there are moments of awareness that does not let you escape, once you become aware of something, no longer can 'help but see it.
And the ostrich, that 's the thing most' shocking, you have people around who hide their heads in the sand, pretending not to see, do not know, do not ask what is the true essence of your discomfort, it is that you separates you from yourself, that does not make you sleep at night, that I wander as a beggar around the world to look for yourself. Things did not improve, cycling, return the pin of the problem and 'always there' that binds you and forces you to orbit around that problem. You can make more 'eccentric elliptical orbit and the fool yourself to escape but eventually returns inexorably drawn near and come, and everything begins again and the gap with me. Where and how to find the strength to escape from this endless stream of life? There are moments of discomfort as big as what I am going through at this moment it seems impossible to see even a small, winding road that takes me out of this magma.
"But what I cirondava now, was a world based on the logic of capitalism and the end, without rendermente account, I felt I was completely absorbed. While I was stopped at a traffic light, on an Aoyama, aboard my BMW and I listened to the winter journey to Shubert, these thoughts came to me suddenly. This does not seem my 'life' I said. It was as if someone had prepared for me. Up to that point I was really myself? And to what extent I was not? "
(Haruki Murakami South of the border west of the sun)
Quoyle On Air: The Wind (R. Freeman)
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Recado
I think I'm in love with this song, this interpretation of the look and the voice of Maria Rita.
Progressions
2005-2007-2009 - (2011?)
