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He escuchado poco y leído menos sobre Elliott Smith (1969-2003). Pero sólo me ha hecho falta una canción para comprender un poco mejor hasta qué punto alguien que se clava dos veces un cuchillo en el corazón desea de veras morir.

Porque supongo que es la misma persona capaz de repetir hasta diecisiete veces seguidas:

Everything means nothing to me

Everything means nothing to me

Everything means nothing to me

Everything means nothing to me

Everything means nothing to me

Everything means nothing to me

Everything means nothing to me

Everything means nothing to me

Everything means nothing to me

Everything means nothing to me

Everything means nothing to me

Everything means nothing to me

Everything means nothing to me

Everything means nothing to me

Everything means nothing to me

Everything means nothing to me

Everything means nothing to me