Again, the same question concerning my age.
Am I too adult to indulge in thinking about the beauty embodied by some songs?
I do not listen to them anymore, but, if it happens, I re-touch every single note by heart.
As if they were rooted. Foucault's constitutive forgetfulness.
It was so difficult to find news. Pictures. Articles. Traces. And we used to be mad about memorabilia. Once in a while, I feel almost proud of our determinacy in worshipping.
Maybe, it's because of this tenacious strength that when I see a Morrissey's picture I become like Frau Blücher. Hypnotic passion.
I'm still at the office, please, sword lilies, take me out tonight.