The pretty bells are just an excuse. It's like waking up and wanting to kick life right at the stomach. Like wanting to get yourself lost in that cup of coffee or that cereal dish. Or like watching the sun through your window wishing that the night before had never ended. But no, sunday morning is here. Inevitable and cynical. Laughing at your disgrace. Not asking your permission to step into your life. Monday is closer now. And there is nothing no one can do to avoid it. However, we try to make Sunday Morning last as long as possible. We? Not me. I just can't stand it. The good thing about sunday is that it ends and won't come back until next week, or so it seems.
2 comments:
Somehow Sundays are the conclusion of something. I deally you use them to rest and chill. (But deep inside you know the upcoming week is stepping forward)
Hay otra Sunday que también es enorme, la de Sonic Youth, no viene en algun album de ellos, es parte de un banda sonora, no recuerdo cual es, solo la tengo en MP3, pero tiene ese pedacito de domingo.
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