Muttering Jam

The days turn with the ease of pages, and like clockwork, it happens...

Monday, July 18, 2011

Far away. Why does the homeland always look like an insane asylum when I am outside of its borders?

Avram Mirsky: I have crossed a thousand bridges in my search for something real/ There were great suspension bridges made like spiderwebs of steel/ There were tiny wooden trestles and there were bridges made of stone/ I have always been a stranger and I've always been alone/ There's a bridge to tomorrow there's a bridge from the past/ There's a bridge made of sorrow that I pray will not last/ There's a bridge made of colors in the sky high above and I think that there must be bridges made out of love - Milton Nascimento

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