good!
Nana and PopPop with the birds.
my tru loves
DS
Bombarded by thick, rolling fog. It must have been route 3. The New York City skyline seemed as though it was in arms reach and then the Chrysler building tilted. It tilted. What seemed like fog turned into water- tons of it. The skyline leaned towards me, like teeth in a crowded jaw. Everything looked engorged. Was engorged. And like that, there was a surge of light. A rush of water and pressure took me over; showers of glass fell from the sky. We were thrown from the car and I couldn’t do anything to stop the fierce momentum from dragging you in.
last night,
was the first time in 10 months, that I had slept in my own bed.
I’ve learned that there is nothing quite as good as your own.
“I flood myself with the light of the immense.”
A Zacinto
Né più mai toccherò le sacre sponde
ove il mio corpo fanciulletto giacque,
Zacinto mia, che te specchi nell’onde
del greco mar da cui vergine nacque
Venere, e fea quelle isole feconde
col suo primo sorriso, onde non tacque
le tue limpide nubi e le tue fronde
l’inclito verso di colui che l’acque
cantò fatali, ed il diverso esiglio
per cui bello di fama e di sventura
baciò la sua petrosa Itaca Ulisse.
Tu non altro che il canto avrai del figlio,
o materna mia terra; a noi prescrisse
il fato illacrimata sepoltura.
On se prend la main comme des enfants
