Disparos / Shootings

"Yo solo quería saber cómo se llamaba y darle las gracias. Cuando estuvo lejos se volvió hacia mí y me disparó muchas veces haciendo una pistola con la mano. Yo no sabía qué hacer, pero como él seguía disparándome, me imaginé que lo mejor era caer muerta."
Francisco Montaña Ibáñez, No comas renacuajos, Bogotá: Babel, 2008.

"Bang, Bang", by Nancy Sinatra

I was five and he was six

We rode on horses made of sticks
He wore black and I wore white
He would always win the fight

Bang bang, he shot me down
Bang bang, I hit the ground
Bang bang, that awful sound
Bang bang, my baby shot me down.

Seasons came and changed the time
When I grew up, I called him mine
He would always laugh and say
"Remember when we used to play?"

Bang bang, I shot you down
Bang bang, you hit the ground
Bang bang, that awful sound
Bang bang, I used to shoot you down.

Music played, and people sang
Just for me, the church bells rang.

Now he's gone, I don't know why
And till this day, sometimes I cry
He didn't even say goodbye
He didn't take the time to lie.

Bang bang, he shot me down
Bang bang, I hit the ground
Bang bang, that awful sound
Bang bang, my baby shot me down...