The Best Fluffy Pancakes recipe you will fall in love with. Full of tips and tricks to help you make the best pancakes.
“The plum trees are in bloom—the wild apricot flowers first,the plum last. . .My love,let’s sitknee to kneeon the grass.The air is delicious and light —but not really warm yet—and the almonds are green and fuzzy, still very soft. .…
1Four o’clock, no you.Five o’clock, nothing.Six, seven,tomorrow, the day after,and maybe— who knows. . .I had a garden in the prison yard. About fifteen paces long, at the foot of a sunny wall.You used to come,and we’d sit side by…
Nazim, what happiness that, open and confident, you can say “Hello”from the bottom of your heart!The year is 1940.The month, July.The day is the first Thursday of the month.The hour: 9.Date your letters in detail this way.We live in such…
In the Istanbul Detention House yard on a sunny winter day after rain,as clouds, red tiles, walls, and my face trembled in puddles on the ground, I—with what was bravest and meanest in me, what was strongest and weakest—I thought…
My wife, life of my life, my Pirayé,I’m thinking about death,which means my arteries are hardening…One day when it’s snowing,or one nightor in the heat of one noon, which of us will die first,how and where?How and what will bethe…
Come she saidStay she saidSmile she saidDie she said I cameI stayedI smiledI died
Because of you, each day is a melon slicesmelling sweetly of earth.Because of you, all fruits reach out to meas if I were the sun.Thanks to you, I live on the honey of hope. You are the reason my heart…
They’ve taken us prisoner,they’ve locked us up: me inside the walls, you outside.But that’s nothing.The worstis when people—knowingly or not— carry prison inside themselves…Most people have been forced to do this,honest, hard-working, good peoplewho deserve to be loved as much…
You are my drunkenness…I did not sober up, as if I can do that;I don’t want to anyway.I have a headache, my knees are full of scarsI am in mud all aroundI struggle to walk towards your hesitant light.
You are my enslavement and my freedomYou are my flesh burning like a raw summer nightYou are my countryYou are the green silks in hazel eyesYou are big, beautiful and triumphantAnd you are my sorrow that isn’t feltthe more I…