CASA FUNDADA EN EL 2005. Me dicen que si no tienes un blog no existes. No es que tenga muchas ganas de existir en este mundo sutil de los blogs pero tampoco quiero quedar como un ser extravagante.
Entonces teniamos 18 años y toda una vida por delante.
Gracias a Wes Anderson y a la primera parte de su película Viaje a Darjeeling , Hotel Chevalier, hemos recuperado un poco de nuestro pasado.
Paris. Es 1969. Todavía quedan adoquines arrancados en Saint Michel.
El cantante es Peter Sarstedt y la canción tiene por título "Where do you go to (my lovely). Cuenta la historia de una chica muy particular...
Solo para ti….
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Que llantina. Gracias... isa
ResponderEliminarLa letra completa:
ResponderEliminarYou talk like Marlene Dietrich
And you dance like Zizi Jeanmaire
Your clothes are all made by Balmain
And there's diamonds and pearls in your hair
You live in a fancy apartment
Of the Boulevard of St. Michel
Where you keep your Rolling Stones records
And a friend of Sacha Distel
You go to the embassy parties
Where you talk in Russian and Greek
And the young men who move in your circle
They hang on every word you speak, yes I do...
But where do you go to my lovely
When you're alone in your bed
Tell me the thoughts that surround you
I want to look inside your head, yes I do...
I've seen all your qualifications
You got from the Sorbonne
And the painting you stole from Picasso
Your loveliness goes on and on, yes it does
When you go on your summer vacation
You go to Juan-les-Pines
With your carefully designed topless swimsuit
You get an even suntan, on your back and on your legs
When the snow falls you're found in St. Moritz
With the others of the jet-set
And you sip your Napoleon Brandy
But you never get your lips wet
But where do you go to my lovely
When you're alone in your bed
(Won't you) Tell me the thoughts that surround you
I want to look inside your head, yes I do
You're in-between twenty an thirty -
A very desirable age
Your body's firm and inviting
But you live on a glittering state
Your name is heard in high places
You know the Aga Khan
He sent you a racehorse for Christmas
And you keep it just for fun, for a laugh ahaha
They say that when you get married
It'll be to a millionaire
But they don't realize where you came from
And I wonder if they really care, they give a damn
Where do you go to my lovely
When you're alone in your bed
Tell me the thoughts that surround you
I want to look inside your head
I remember the back streets of Naples
Two children begging in rags
Both touched with a burning ambition
To shake off their lowly brown tags, yes they try
So look into my face Marie-Claire
And remember just who you are
Then go and forget me forever
But I know you still bear the scar, deep inside, yes you do
I know where you go to my lovely
When you're alone in your bed
I know the thoughts that surround you
`Cause I can look inside your head
Se ve que tienes más tiempo, da gusto entrar por aquí ultimamente.
ResponderEliminarUn abrazo.
desde la primera nota...
ResponderEliminarno se porque se me mojan
los ojos.
un regalo fenomenal
muchas gracias