Smiles, young Miryam, a fleeting shadow in the eye from the pain of gifting life, a dance of Her pupils for that little Miracle who holds Her pinky in His hand, and Her everything in His own Stares, young Miryam, with eyes which probe my soul...
Oh, the wondrous power of a tiny mindless virus! Flu, as influence; and see, all the influence you’re exercising on me, little monarch which never knew to rule, to whom nothing less than a gargantuan human body was given as a reign to rule...
Read me on Instagram!Like me on Facebook!Watch me on YouTube!Follow me on twitter! Buy my books! God, is like that mother whose five years old son, one fine day, announced he was grown-up enough to not need her to accompany him at pre-school...
