'When I see a racehorse I see a machine, and that's what I paint, a horse-shaped machine with pistons thumping away and muscle fibres like connecting rods and a crack in the crank case with the oil dripping away drop by drop into the body cavity...'
"Do you treat your military like monsters? Do you stare at your own reflection with such disdain?"
Reklam
Death—he had forgotten its bitter kiss. So long... so long.
But I knew a gift. I tasted the air in my lungs... after so long... after ages of dust. The sweet air of love... but now...
Night-stained faces crowded above him, paint white as bone.
Skulls? Ah, my brothers... we are dust—
Dust, and nothing but—
Paint it blackRoman
Genç adam bir plakçının önünden geçerken Rolling Stone hoparlörlerden haykırıyordu.
“ Kırmızı bir kapı görüyorum ve onu siyaha boyamak istiyorum,
Artık renk yok, onların siyaha dönüşmelerini istiyorum,
Yazlık elbiselerini giymiş kızların geçtiklerini görüyorum,
Karanlığım geçinceye kadar başımı döndürmek zorundayım. “
Astrid>>
On the windshield, there’s something written in white paint.
‘Run along, King. You don’t need to beg for it.’
“What’s wrong with just red?”
“There’s no such thing as just red.”
She stares at me blankly, like we are not speaking the same language.
“There’s apple red,” I insist, “cherry red, pen red, sexy red, demure red, pale red, lipstick red, shy red, hot red, blood red, car-brake red, swimsuit red, New Year’s red, strawberry red, wet-paint red, gummy red, rose red, flower red—now rose is a flower but it’s not flower red, it’s its own red, rose red. Then there are other shades of red like orange red, purple red, blue red, yellow red …”
Reklam
Reklam