La espera es el silencio del viento de una noche que sabe que conspira.
She had her own theories of what was ailing her. As if these maladies afflicting her body were all a product of her knitting handiwork, and she was proud of them.
No era justo que Jacobín pensara que sólo ella debía morir. No era justo que el perfecto de Martín quedara impune a tal posibilidad.
Tal vez la identidad de un individuo no sea más que un simple puente apostado entre dos personas
I place your hand upon my fingers. It’s not your destiny I seek―that much is clear.
Our identity as humans, as people, as earthlings, as inhabitants of the universe itself is linked to earth, tethered to it.
Why are we so bad at taking care of the dying?
Poema “ad rimandum et videndum” – Vídeo “La última caricia” Terranova Editores, San Juan, Puerto Rico (2013)