The kitchen was still sprinkled
with flour and prayers.
The nurse tucked in the night ghost,... more »
It was a lark, bichito, no nightingale
It is not easy to graft oneself onto you, my dear.
I realize that I was laughing and not coughing
what I said to you, and I should unthink the things... more »
If you were saying, if you were wondering from where
it came, who it is, where it lives, it could not
speak but of death, of substances... more »
The Girl from Tokyo
"I' am not a professional, I work
in an office of the American Army."... more »
Is it possible that this is the entire
story, a single day? Yesterday's news,
lost in the next-to-last page,... more »
Is it possible that this were all... more »
I call to the door.
—Who is it, I ask.
—Me, I answer.... more »