blog · prose poetry


Play with passion, until your violin strings break, until your guitar is halved in two, until your piano keys is in the familiar tune of desafinado, slightly out of tune. Play until your pencil splits and your ink runs out. Sparkle with the familiar glint of art. Tremble with passion, quiver with it, be penetrated with its hotness. Fill it until it is in your core, the essence of being, the meaning of living

a. degamo


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