ikke enda en sint, svart jente

Jeg begynte med en respons på alt dette snakket om somaliere og hvor fæle de er,  i kjølvannet av Amal Adens bok «Se Oss…», men fant på bedre utløp for min frustrasjon over hvor misforstått somaliere er, vi er som pre-pubertale emo-kids. I hvert fall, bedre utløp for min frustrasjon ble José Gonzalez

One night to be confused
One night to speed up truth
We had a promise made
Four hands and then away

Both under influence
We had divine scent
To know what to say
Mind is a razor blade

To call for hands of above
To lean on
Wouldn’t be good enough
For me, no

One night of magic rush
The start a simple touch
One night to push and scream
And then relief

Ten days of perfect tunes
The colors red and blue
We had a promise made
We were in love

To call for hands of above
To lean on
Wouldn’t be good enough
For me, no

To call for hands of above
To lean on
Wouldn’t be good enough

And you, you knew the hands of the devil
And you, kept us awake with wolf teeth
Sharing different heartbeats
In one night

To call for hands of above
To lean on
Wouldn’t be good enough
For me, no

To call for hands of above
To lean on
Wouldn’t be good enough
For me, no

og plutselig følte jeg meg høy på trend-rusen kalt glede.

for den som er interessert i hvordan somaliere flest er, er det bare å følge med på bloggen videre, handling taler best. jeg er kanskje ikke mediansomalieren, men jeg har mine übersomaliske sider.

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