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dead

What a beautiful quote, right? It makes me wonder…

Recently, I’ve been reading a lot of Pablo Neruda’s love poetry in both Spanish and English. He had such a way with words! So beautiful…the metaphors and imagery is exquisite. He’s long gone and that makes me sad. As I read, I sometimes imagine a young man, hopelessly in love, stumbling down the streets of Madrid, searching for his beloved. It could be anyone. I’m glad that his words still live on, even though he does not.

Who is your favourite dead writer? Who stirs in their death as you flicker through the pages of their novels?

– Ermisenda Alvarez

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