patry 🇵🇸🇨🇩🇸&#x1f > Recent Status Updates

“I nodded along
with this sad tale.
If I closed my eyes,
I thought I could feel
the echo of Dad’s journey
out of Prague
in my own bones.
Maybe
my father is still running from Prague.
Maybe
my mother is still fleeing Havana.
Maybe
my entire family is still trying to escape history.
(But if that’s true,
what am I doing here,
drowning in it?)”

“It doesn’t know
if the birch groves are silent
or if they’re full of vila—
enchanted women
whose beauty
haunts
the minds of foresters.
Prague believes in magic.
Prague believes in itself.”

“Aunt Žofie squeezes my hand.
I appreciate Prague’s magic.
I paint it
each and every day.
But not all magic is safe,
and there are things here
far worse
than ghosts.
By speaking to the dead,
you might draw them to you.
Let the boy on the hill go;
let him move on.
You don’t belong in his world
and he has stopped belonging
in ours.”

“There’s a story
printed
in Aunt Žofie’s gaze,
but it’s in a language
I haven’t learned to read.
(Yet.)”

“I’m surprised he let you see him at all.
Having a ghost
is like having a cat.
They wander where they like
and won’t come
when you call.”

“(I can tell her mind is only
half
with me.
The rest of her is a permanent resident
of Fairyland,
where the borders are closed
to nearly everyone.)”

“What are you?
Who put you all the way up here?
I ask the great cat.
The lion must know
what my history books forgot,
but time
has swallowed his voice.
He doesn’t answer;
he can’t.”

“Maybe brothers and sisters
must always contradict each other
so that the world
stays in balance.”

“
Aunt Žofie tells me:
My home
may not look like much,
but I have everything I need!
I can visit museums
whenever I like.
I can walk to the library
where the walls are painted
with the stars
of a hundred constellations
and every book
invites me inside.”

“She speaks
Czech
and English,
Russian
and German.
But sometimes
I can’t understand
a single word
she says.
Her heart’s language is a mystery
I can’t solve.”

“Did the sea ever swallow up your songs?
Have you ever let
a human boy
pluck them off your tongue
and carry them up to the sun?
Did your mother or father
ever take your music away,
like my parents took mine?
PS
I know I can always count
on your silence.
It’s my own
I’m not used to.”

Până în cele din urmă margini privim,noi sfinţii, noi apele,noi tâlharii, noi pietrele,drumul întoarcerii nu-1 mai ştim,Elohim, Elohim

Dar sus, la o mie de metri-nălţime, spre răsăritstelele îşi spun poveşti prin cetini de brazişi-n miez de noapte râtul mistreţilor deschide izvoarele

Cu toată creaturami-am ridicat în vânturi rănileşi-am aşteptat: oh, nici o minune nu se-mplineşte. Nu se-mplineşte, nu se-mplineşte!Şi totuşi cu cuvinte simple ca ale noastres-au făcut lumea, stihiile, ziua şi focul.Cu picioare ca ale noastreIsus a umblat peste ape

Noapte. Subt sfere, subt marile,monadele dorm.Lumi comprimate,lacrimi fără de sunet în spaţiu,monadele dorm.Mişcarea lor - lauda somnului

Cetate de veac, prăsilă de painjeni verzisubt muşchi şi scocuri. -Pe turn între semnele ceasului, gânditor timpul stă. O vrabie umblă pe-arătător.Subt bolţi de nicăiri nici un ecou.Părul tău joacă în vântul pe care 1-am întâlnit ieri în alt oraşşi care ne-a ajuns din nou

În ce tărâm şi-n ce somn te-ai oprit?Cerească subt ce iarb-ai rămas?Se revarsă în mine drumuriletoate pe cari ai umblat.Oglinda-ţi mai păstrează chipulşi după ce-ai plecat.Fără gând, fără-ndemn, fără glas,cu mâneca şterg ochiuri ude.Un vecin prin zidul meu auderăbdarea neagră a aceluiaşi pas

Mă îndemn să fiuşi o clipă mai sânt.Undeva pe câmpa murit fratele vânt.Toamna sângereazăpeste un mers bătrân.Printre umbre prelungirostul mi-amân.Spre nu ştiu ce sfârşitun zbor s-a întins.Cu pâlpâit de sfeşnicun copac s-a stins.În fântână mi-aplecgând şi cuvânt.Ceru-şi deschideun ochi în pământ

Noapte întreagă. Dănţuiesc stele în iarbă.Se retrag în pădure şi-n peşteri potecile,gornicul nu mai vorbeşte.Buhe sure s-aşază ca urne pe brazi.În întunericul fără de martorise liniştesc păsări, sânge, ţarăşi aventuri în cari veşnic recazi.Dăinuie un suflet în adieri,fără azi,fără ieri.În somn sângele meu ca un valse trage din mineînapoi în părinţi.

thought it was done and then it histd me with a 22 pages epilogue I DONT CARE DOAMNE LASA TE DDE SCRIS

this book ruined my vacation. reading it felt like reading a book assignment for school.

“The taste is much the same in either case.” He gave her a tight smile, his voice taking on a wry note. “Trust me, if you’d care to offer a better option for tonight...” His gaze slid pointedly to her exposed throat, beneath her upswept hair.
She rolled her eyes. “Hardly.”

men are embarrassing on their own but Ana Huang somehow amplifies it

this trash didn't need to be this long

switching to the audio book (also pirated i'm not spending my money on trash) CUZ IM DETERMINED TO FINISH IT

love when men care about mysoginy only in the instance when they view a woman as theirs 😍😍and happening to their "property" proves bothersome to them

neil gaiman they will never make me like you