Magical Realism, Writing, Fiction, Politics, Haiku, Books

viernes, octubre 14, 2011

The Week In The Dream Antilles

When I arrived in late afternoon, La Bahia was asleep. I tiptoed up to her. She was only partially covered by the white and grey cotton blanket, frequently used, often washed and very soft. I could see her bare back as it rose and fell with her breath. I watched her sleep. I listened to her breathing. I did not wake her.

As I think about this and try to write it down, I know that this is what love feels like when it is raining.

This Week In The Dream Antilles is usually a weekly digest. Sometimes, like now, it isn't actually a digest of essays posted in the past week at The Dream Antilles.