The Best Fluffy Pancakes recipe you will fall in love with. Full of tips and tricks to help you make the best pancakes.
Matilde, where are you? Down there I noticed, under my necktie and just above the heart, a certain pang of grief between the ribs, you were gone that quickly. I needed the light of your energy, I looked around, devouring…
My life was tinted purple by so much love,and I veered helter-skelter like a blinded birdtill I reached your window, my friend:you heard the murmur of a broken heart. There from the shadows I rose to your breast:without being or…
I walked: not only through the wasteland where the salted rock is like the only rose, a flower buried in the sea- but also on the banks of rivers gouging through the snow; the high bitter mountain ranges felt my…
Woe is me, woe is us, my dearest: we wanted only love, to love one another, but among so many griefs it was fated that only we two would be so hurt. We wanted the you and the me for…
Support this archive and get a book for yourself: Love dragged its tail of pain,its train of static thorns behind it,and we closed our eyes so that nothing,so that no wound could divide us. This crying, it’s not your eyes’…
Those who wanted to wound me wounded you,and the dose of secret poison meant for melike a net passes through my work-but leavesits smear of rust and sleeplessness on you. I don’t want the hate that sabotaged me, Love,to shadow…
Among the broadswords of literary ironI wander like a foreign sailor, who does not knowthe streets, or their angles, and who sings becausethat’s how it is, because if not for that what else is there? From the stormy archipelagoes I…
They’re liars, those who say I lost the moon, who foretold a future like a public desert for me, who gossiped so much with their cold tongues: they tried to ban the flower of the universe. “The quick spontaneous mermaids’…
Get used to seeing the shadow behind me, accept your hands will emerge clean from the rancor as if they were made in the morning of the river. My love, the salt gave you its crystalline proportions. Envy suffers, expires,…
Thorns, shattered glass, sickness, crying: all day they attack the honied contentment. And neither the tower, nor the walls, nor secret passageways are of much help. Trouble seeps through, into the sleepers’ peace. Sorrow rises and falls, comes near with…