¡Hola, comunidad de amantes de la literatura! Nuevamente llego para compartirles un poema que pertenece a mi cuaderno El Campanario del Silencio. Este incluye 10 sonetos que glosan versos de la autoría del poeta cubano Rubén Martínez Villena. En espera de que puedan disfrutar de esta propuesta, les dejo un abrazo de luz y les agradezco de antemano por su lectura.

It was simply about love. There was a connection beyond that between them. The hen and my girl had a perfect bond. Until the hen disappeared, we suspect because of a robbery.These were the last photographs I took of them together. I preferred the black and white contrast because, besides being my favorite, it supports my idea of showing the deepest and simplest feeling. So simple, a pure bond that I try to capture, no poses, no makeup: just a girl and her pet in a moment of tenderness.

What do I see in the distance ? What do I perceive ? I'd better stay very still. Let my feline eyes find reasons to the world, while I am hidden.In the shadow of the garden, crouched, good boy, Toulouse reflected, fearful of danger.

Image created by me using Dall-e AINo one in town had seen the stars for a hundred years, until the night Charlie disappeared.Little by little, the most curious neighbors, the tormented, those who were in love, the lonely and melancholic, all of them settled in the square without looking up. After all, nothing extraordinary was happening in that town. The only relevant event was the arrival of Charly.

Hello, my dear hivers cooks! Today I return to this kitchen of all to share with you a recipe that I had the opportunity to prepare just two days ago. Coincidentally, our friend @edwing357 proposed us the preparation of a rice that I thought was great and then I have not hesitated to bring my recipe with some secrets that, I think, will be interesting for everyone.

PRIMERA INFANCIAEra el gorrión hasta que las luces me hablaron y el patio central se hizo más grande.Abuela nunca fue jaula, abuelo era la música, el bosque. Dibujo mil veces aquella canción de día ingenuo, dibujo con tanta lluvia el plumón y la teja fermentando mi gorgear con la crecida.