by which I mean what comes to mind now and squeezes my throat are those nights together on the floor of the living room
tu eres talvez mi corazon gitano que vega en el azul llorando versos! —César Vallejo We bet high and slept in the streets, sure
“Il ny’a rien de hors-langue” JD come from a wide square full of bodies moving like dark sails in the harbor, sweet figs, staying