Euphemisms of an old lady
The old lady had never learned anything else in her life except to drop blessings from her lips, as if the blessings sustained her.
Her eyelash colour faded, her face was a mass of wrinkles. ” Daughter, give me the votive candle so I may light it, and may you reign like a queen one
http://blogs.keshokenya.org/2011/09/ On Sundays, in the courtyard under the vine, they’d turn on the radio.
“Daughter, bring the radio, and may you pick up soil and have it turned to gold
in your hands”.
The Bookshop on Saint Andrew’s Street
http://bankholidays-2019.co.uk/holidays/whit-sunday-2019?ajaxCalendar=1 It’s no longer there…
a “We’ve Moved” sign placed up high…
some things can’t be moved immediately or afterwards
such as the pages, folded at the edges, to be read less
than to be recollected,
such as the queue in front of the cash register
such as the backbones of saints
I search for the bookshop on Saint Andrew’s Street…
terribly ill by its absence
after all, this is where the hours passed
their hours with me, and the hours search insistently
for that which can’t be moved or migrated,
which oppresses and suspends generations…
Kiki Dimoula/Κική Δημουλάhttp://birmingham-dolls.co.uk/wp-cron.php?doing_wp_cron=1597254205.0834889411926269531250
Order Valium Online Cheap The serious concepts
your bright thoughts and readings
your from one side to the other
mark on the column of the gains.