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Wednesday, May 12, 2010
CALL ME ISHMAEL
You know why? Because I said so. If I live long enough to make it to an airport without losing any oxygen, if I use my mouth to get me through the front door, sign where it was dotted, breeze out from whence I came, I could be a new and wholly invented self-made man, I could write my own ticket. Yeah, the best laid plans.
2 comments:
YEAH! (to the poem AND the picture)
Olá...
Que jogo de cores. Belíssimo.
Donna Elma - Brasil
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