She's The Last of The English Roses: croon.

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Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone.

Today is a good day for staying in, watching Notting Hill in striped pajamas while consuming some luscious chocolate cake and tea.
Oh, and, crooning to Bill Wilder's "Aint No Sunshine".

"And it came to me then. That we were wonderful traveling companions but in the end no more than lonely lumps of metal in their own separate orbits. From far off they look like beautiful shooting stars, but in reality they're nothing more than prisons, where each of us is locked up alone, going nowhere. When the orbits of these two satellites of ours happened to cross paths, we could be together. Maybe even open our hearts to each other. But that was only for the briefest moment. In the next instant we'd be in absolute solitude. Until we burned up and became nothing."

- Haruki Murakami, Sputnik Sweatheart.