While I was in South America, people asked me about Donald Trump. “We don’t understand,” they would say frantically. “Why are the American people interested in this madman? How can you explain it to us in a way that makes sense?”
Jose heard the soft call of the night bird, mournful and low. “It is a sign.” Jose thought, so he was not afraid when he opened the door.
Lá fora, José ouviu p canto suave do pássaro da noite, triste e baixa. “É um sinal.” José pensou, e ainda assim ele não estava com medo quando abriu a porta.
Three different men, with three different sufferings, and how a tiny Barbie shoe changed their souls.
I lay restlessly in a shallow grave awaiting the Day of the Dead, when my soul will rise to join a tide of others seeking a warm brush with the land of the living ~ one embrace, one more wish for a good trip, one last kiss good-bye.