La ciutat del Jazz

Nova Orleans la ciutat del Jazz esta sota l'aigua del Mississipi.

Some mothers

Mítica sèrie ! i font d’inspiració constant per alguns Weirdos. ;-D

Dani

It's crazy but it's true, I still got my marbles

Joan Carles

Dream Factory

Eagle-eye view of Gin Stars

There is a place where dreams are woven
where fantasy's threads are basted to real
don't ask me where is it, I couldn't answer you
everyone has his own place, you must look for it yourself
It's very easy to find but you have to have some faith
it can be in a simple garage or away in a foreign land

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone by W. H. Auden

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.