Thursday, July 24, 2008

Everyday is Like Sunday, by Morrissey

I dreaded sundays as a youngster. They were heavy and slow. They were late-wakeuppers and didn't involve much more than eating, watching the telly and mourning for saturdays past.

My head is more psychotic when bored, so sundays represented too much time with myself and being miserable. My self was a bombarded town.

Youth is gone, and now sundays are minute and fleeting. They almost aren't there. Now I wish everyday felt like sunday, just to know weeks are whole, that time is just as I remember it: fast, and slow, and then silent... mine.

1 comment:

mengana said...

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se puede participar con ensayo academico o concursar en creaciòn literaria