, . Obscure minerals under the summer sun. Heads hunters in lost bookshops. Dust on t-shirts from ’94. Learning how to get a sentimental hygiene. Collecting plastic snakes. To listen all Stones’ albums. Trains in spring and hot-air ballons in winter. Van Gogh’s head’s sunflowers. Jumping in the sea from ten meters. To love a person all over your life. Vivid dreams. Having a dinner with a window-view on a far district. Having sex for lunch, a chat for dinner. A beer and its bottom, a book and its voice. Hot vapours from the roofs of Europe, red roofs, noise from the pubs. The first picture of your life. The first waterfall. The way she was dancing under the moonlight, in the middle of July, in the middle of Aegean sea. To catch the green light and not to know how to use it. To sing inside an empty room many years ago. To write the best novel of the century, to end it at 3 p.m. in your dark kitchen and to be the only one who’ll ever read it.
I’m cold and curious and wonderful and endless. It’s always a question of eyes. The city is suggesting the best technique to survive. I love this city. This city is a sphere. Nothing really ends.
I’m cold and curious and wonderful and endless. It’s always a question of eyes. The city is suggesting the best technique to survive. I love this city.
sphere.
This city is a . . . Nothing really ends.
I’m cold and fosforescent and nothing really ends.
--
The spark that makes feel the desire to set off the storm on your face. The long beak that pecks till the sunrise. The lycanthropes’ nights are always here. Poetry isn’t something comfortable.
Poetry is an ambush.
A story.
She had a look of a ripped sweetness, and seemed to own all the world’s maps. But the storm bit our throats. Then moons went up: and confused dreams of ships and gliders. Today. Here. I note the hands. Can’t exactly feel the music. The way some particulars of her haven’t changed is frightening: to understand that we’re stronger than Time. I note the fingers. I can’t exactly feel what the fuck is happening here now in this moment, because the temporal planes are overlapping. We burn these surprising moments as ships and gliders do. Years have to pass to understand where we remained.
STRILLA NANA PRESENTS
“Greatest artists around the world” ( considering that we (the fanzine ’s creators) aren’t real artists – and we also have troubles with the law because of public nudity – are particularly glad to give space to real artist); so :
The previous pictures – by – David Rodriguez
:o The following pictures – by – Gabriela Paludi
“analogue collage” Lic. en Artes Visuales www.gabrielapaludi.com.ar
Follow the pa g e
s
s
And follow sddslkbàlkòàdfkbàòdkfb
too.
42 – “AA” (2017 – French Fries Inc. Production) https://www.jamendo.com/album/173555/aa
Are you one Alcoholics Anonymous? Are you not? Are you anybody? Do you wanna be somebody? You might find all the answers and more existential matters in new 42 album. Released at the end of last year, it brings the listener to the sweet journey of taste. The album opens with the last track, Whisky, a romantic post-decadent shit-gaze, it will make you terribly sad, but
Absinthe, an updown washing machine interracial spiral, a hymn to the forgotten joy. Rum opens hearts and breaks hopes, while Vodka takes us to the fortunately
it
follows
gates of the bar of friends and acquaintances, where drinks are cheap and excellent, and nights are infinite (do you remember nighthands?) The second track of the album, Gin, reminds of the classic 42 style, with the heavy and welcoming keyboards and noises of the last era. It is suggested to organize a tasting night, playing this track over and over, soft couches, nice pillows, lofty lights, and much, much fun. The album ends with 42’s favorite stuff. Mezcal is just a long and slow trip, interrupted by deviant abrupted instruments, just to make you squeeze when needed, and many silent ways to understand the world and the stars and the fake moonlight which reflects on our stupid ball. A disco ball.
42
Move your monsters away, swim your head in the sunshine, and think about those brilliant days.