"I stayed on to warm up the ink in which I drown and to listen to my alternative cavern, tactile nights, abstracted days. The unknown shuddered in my tonsil and I creaked from an annual melancholy, solar nights, lunar days, Parisian sunsets. And still, this very day, at nightfall, I digest the most scared certainties, maternal nights, great-granddaughter days, bicolored, voluptuous, urgent, lovely." - Cesar VallejoTuesday, December 1, 2009
123rd.
"I stayed on to warm up the ink in which I drown and to listen to my alternative cavern, tactile nights, abstracted days. The unknown shuddered in my tonsil and I creaked from an annual melancholy, solar nights, lunar days, Parisian sunsets. And still, this very day, at nightfall, I digest the most scared certainties, maternal nights, great-granddaughter days, bicolored, voluptuous, urgent, lovely." - Cesar Vallejo