Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer lease hath all to short a date:

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed,
And every fair from fair sometimes declines
By change or nature’s changing course untrimmed;

But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest,
Nor shall Death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:

So long has man can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this give life to thee.

Words and music by David Bowie

'Five Years'


Pushing thru the market square, so many mothers sighing
News had just come over, we had five years left to cry in
News guy wept and told us, earth was really dying
Cried so much his face was wet, then I knew he was not lying
I heard telephones, opera house, favourite melodies
I saw boys, toys electric irons and T.V.'s
My brain hurt like a warehouse, it had no room to spare
I had to cram so many things to store everything in there
And all the fat-skinny people, and all the tall-short people
And all the nobody people, and all the somebody people
I never thought I'd need so many people

A girl my age went off her head, hit some tiny children
If the black hadn't a-pulled her off, I think she would have killed them
A soldier with a broken arm, fixed his stare to the wheels of a Cadillac
A cop knelt and kissed the feet of a priest, and a queer
threw up at the sight of that
I think I saw you in an ice-cream parlour, drinking milk shakes cold and long
Smiling and waving and looking so fine, don't think
you knew you were in this song
And it was cold and it rained so I felt like an actor
And I thought of Ma and I wanted to get back there
Your face, your race, the way that you talk
I kiss you, you're beautiful, I want you to walk

We've got five years, stuck on my eyes
We've got five years, what a surprise
We've got five years, my brain hurts a lot
We've got five years, that's all we've got

Sid & Nancy

Il 12 ottobre del 1978, alle  11 circa di mattina, l'addetto alla reception del  Chelsea   Hotel  di New York riceveva una chiamata esterna . Un uomo, che non si era identificato, disse all'addetto:  "Ci sono problemi nella stanza 100." L'addetto inviò un fattorino a controllare, ma prima che questi tornasse la reception ricevette un'altra chiamata, stavolta direttamente dalla stanza 100. "Qualcuno sta male," disse una voce maschile diversa dalla precedente. "C'è bisogno di aiuto."

da:  http://www.crimelibrary.com/notorious_murders/celebrity/sid_vicious/index.html#continue

Ecco, questo è quanto ho sempre cercato di tenere a mente, parole, e una verità, che mi hanno sempre aiutata ad avere una visione molto fluida ed ... *elastica* (sì questo è l'aggettivo giusto dato il contesto) delle cose o ad, eventualmente, a fugare quei primi 10/15 secondi di perplessità quando alla mia conoscenza vengono portate bizzarre notizie come quella che oggi alloggiava serafica in una delle mie svariate caselle e-mail, reclamando la mia attenzione:

 ... bla bla bla  ...