Dia de los Butterflies

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“Here are letters, all yours (already on the folds their traces of jerky pencil are fading). By day, folded up, they sleep, amid dry flowers, in my fragrant drawer, but at night they fly out, semitransparent and weak, they glide and flutter over me, like butterflies: one I may catch in my fingers, and at the night blue I look through it, and in it the stars shine through.” -Vladimir... Read More