Romance of sadness
Dig up her bones but leave the soul alone.
All of your pieces
La boca del lobo siempre me pareció un rincón apetecible en el que acurrucarme a dormir.
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Be my map, and we’ll leave with all the treasure we can grab
“Did you think i was a city big enough for a weekend getaway I am the town surrounding it the one you've never heard of but always pass through there are no neon lights here no skyscapers or statues but there is thunder for I make bridges tremble I am not street meat i am homemade jam thick enough to cut the sweetest thing you lips will touch I am not police sirens I am the crackle of a fireplace I'd burn you and you still couldn't take your eyes off of me cause I'd look so beautiful doing it you'd blush I am not a hotel room I am home I am not the whiskey you want I am the water you need don't come here with expectations and try to make a vacation out of me” Rupi Kaur
I will stay
La vida comienza involuntariamente tantas veces como latidos, como suspiros, como sonrisas contenemos. Comienza después del golpe, después de la herida, después de la pérdida, después de un café, de un abrazo, de hundirse en el mar, de tu película favorita, de los labios rojos. Comienza. La vida comienza, te lo juro, cientos de veces por primera vez. Sara Búho
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