facing the sea stands towering Fortress Hill
Sunrise Pavilion at the summit, on clear days
stretching towards the sky, I almost touch the clouds

on rainy days, the solitary iron cable suspended midair
seems lonely

The big yellow bus rumbled along, flattening the grasses along the edge of the road. The fence posts for the ranches the bus was passing stood in line, keeping the fence wires in place, though here and there a sprouting post had already become a tree again. Rain had moistened the land and there were puddles in the road;

You shall now become a man of rock.
A solid and sturdy man,
slightly chipped.

I hear God’s promise of forgiveness in the babbling wine.

From the rubab, I hear the clang of Paradise’s gate.

This is the difference when we hear:

you hear the door closing, I hear it opening.

There was a nearly suffocating smell: smell of old walls, it struck me like the melodies that resurrect in the heart the deepest memories. You know: on that sofa I wept so much when I knew you wouldn’t come back. And today, in the doorway, my soul of that time took hold of me; in an instant my entire past returned. . .

Now she can’t do anything anymore, so, when I visit her, I tell her to prepare the salad, just to kill time. She peels away the bad leaves, and I tell her, “Throw them away and leave the good ones.” She starts, but then she forgets, so we eat the rotten salad and we mix it with curcuma and balsamic vinaigrette to cover the bad taste.[…]

Blame me not, but society, morals, laws, and customs Your mother as a pioneer was a martyr of destiny Someday you may come as ambassadors to Paris Find my grave, leave one flower for me[…]