by Anna Swir
For the last time I wash the shirt
of my father who died.
The shirt smells of sweat. I remember
that sweat from my childhood,
so many years
I washed his shirts and underwear,
I dried them
at an iron stove in the workshop,
he would put them on unironed.
From among all bodies in the world,
only one exuded that sweat.
I breathe it in
for the last time. Washing this shirt
I destroy it
only paintings survive him
which smell of oils.
Click the link (above) to read the whole thing….
We miss you, Jimmy.
Here it is - My ALS #IceBucketChallenge, Sci-Fi style.
People make the mistake of thinking it is a sign of weakness to admit you are wrong and then apologize. If anything, it is a sign of admirable strength.
— James Joyce
True love begins when nothing is looked for in return.
Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
I’ve been watching this grasshopper grow almost from the hatchling stage. It has gotten to be quite trusting.
Lemony Snicket, The Reptile Room