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Fragmentos de textos e imagens catadas nesta tela, capturadas desta web, varridas de jornais, revistas, livros, sons, filtradas pelos olhos e ouvidos e escorrendo pelos dedos para serem derramadas sobre as teclas... e viverem eterna e instanta neamente num logradouro digital. Desagua douro de pensa mentos.
The poor boy came from the farm land
She was the daughter of a sailor man
The Captain says 'When he begs your hand
You better tell him no, no, no, no, no'
She said 'Papa don't you worry please
The poor begs me upon his knees
I'd never leave this life of ease'
And with the poor boy goes
posted by Ricky at 15:48
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