BLUE BIRDS AREN’T BLUE She waltzed into the room adrift and confused by the sudden source of her misery. Her hair dangled in front of her eyes hiding her now faded emerald-gray gloom. She was a he and he was a she. Her hair was knitted together by knots creating a nest and the possibility of a blue bird living in her hair; with the scraps of fabrics she used to sew. She walks into her room sits in front of her mirror and she wonders if she could comb through the mess. But that was months ago...
With the magic of Giusepe Verdi, the Whitmans are transported to 19th century Paris at a performance of San Francisco Opera: photograph by Elaine and tanka poem by Neal. Violette in her opera box perfumed bouquet of camellias l’impulso dell’amore
Our Earth We have some places where ugliness rules, but more places where beauty rules on this blue Earth Taro Aizu La nostra Terra Noi abbiamo dei luoghi dove regna il brutto ma abbiamo più luoghi dove la bellezza regna su questa Terra blu Translated by Lidia Chiarelli
http://www.larecherche.it/librolibero_ebook.asp?Id=223 eBook n. 217 :: Proust N.7 – Il profumo del tempo, di Aa. Vv. LaRecherche.it [Un accordo di essenze] Free Download Collana di eBook a cura di Giuliano Brenna e Roberto Maggiani