By request, this post is a translation of a poem that appeared a few months ago. Susana, so sorry it has taken me so long! Also thanks to Sandra, who helped proofread my wilting Spanish. Junto ramas secas bajo un cielo de un gris color plomo. Buitres circulan sobre nuestras cabezas sobre el campo …
Nostalgia
Aren’t memories grand? Life is made of both the big milestones and the tiny pebbles under our feet.