esactamente asi me siento...

Nico-The fairest of all seasons


Now that it's time
Now that the hour hand has landed at the end
Now that it's real
Now that the dreams have given all they had to lend
I want to know do I stay or do I go
And maybe try another time
And do I really have a hand in my forgetting ?

Now that I've tried
Now that I've finally found that this is not the way,
Now that I turn
Now that I feel it's time to spend the night away
I want to know do I stay or do I go
And maybe finally split the rhyme
And do I really understand the undernetting ?

Yes and the morning has me
Looking in your eyes
And seeing mine warning me
To read the signs carefully.

Now that it's light
Now that the candle's falling smaller in my mind
Now that it's here
Now that I'm almost not so very far behind
I want to know do I stay or do I go
And maybe follow another sign
And do I really have a song that I can ride on ?

Now that I can
Now that it's easy, ever easy all around.
Now that I'm here
Now that I'm falling to the sunlights and a song
I want to know do I stay or do I go
And do I have to do just one
And can I choose again if I should lose the reason ?

Yes, and the morningHas me looking in your eyes
And seeing mine warning me
To read the signs more carefully.

Now that I smile,
Now that I'm laughing even deeper inside.
Now that I see,
Now that I finally found the one thing I denied
It's now I know do I stay or do I go
And it is finally I decide
That I'll be leavingIn the fairest of the seasons.

Debe ser complicado tener una banda sonora.

Musica constante que acompañe mis acciones, que recree atmosferas, que cree tensiones dramáticas o momentos cómicos a lo largo de mi vida.

(Mi vida, en este momento, sonaría a chasquidos del teclado, a lluvia en mi ventana, a vidrios que se rompen, a lazos que se rompen, a jazz, a funk, a salsa, a humo denso, a frío helado.)

No se me ocurre que banda sonora tendría mi vida. Todavía no se me ocurre cual serviría.

La banda sonora de In the mood for love suena a radio viejo, a bolero, a nostalgia, a aquellos ojos negros, a inteligibles sonidos cantados en coreano que evocan recuerdos de fotografías en sepia, a quizás, quizás, quizás.

(Supe de ella por Juana, y me encantó. Hace dos días la escuché en la casa de Dario. Nunca los boleros cantados por Nat King Cole habían sonado tan bien.)