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Article Communautés Concours Essai Multimédia Personnelles Poèmes Presse Prose _QUOTE Scénario Spécial | ||||||
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2003-02-16 | [Ce texte devrait être lu en romana] |
One day a butterfly set on my nose
and sais: I want you to speak about blue as if this is the last time a minute has 60 seconds. Well, I know blue is the colour of my coffee cup in the morning. I know that if you hear -look it's coming out of blue Watch your head-a stone is near. When a man cries in the street "Blue" he's still streching the divorce papers in his pocket. If you take blue out of colour cercle a child has to stop dreaming. Blue is the colour of blood rolling down on walls in a moonless night. I know that if you see people living in blue houses they are sea creatures forgotten on the sand Blue is the flower field my mother pointed out "That's how we live" Blue is the minute I heard Janis Joplin saying- Summertime! What about this? one night I wrote blue on the toillet paper and sick of middle letters I decided to BE. The butterfly looked at me spilled his anger and dissapeared; I was still there lost in the blue......
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