LAURA MARQUEZ, A HEART OF ARTS
by Joan Espino
Someone whispered
my twitter a poet was among us, then I just stopped on the bridge that divides the city, watched carefully the whole picture almost consumed by the change of season.
clock sometimes confused me, did not know whether the time had died or if my thoughts floated a moment as he looked recite his verses in ¨ ¨ Strawberry Fields of Central Park , his words had so much rhythm, so flight.
I his heart captive letters, almost galactic explosion of feelings Virtual saved on the timeline of those who follow him, I wonder How much light can fill these spaces when the sun not yet awake? , her name is Laura, but I am unsure of who or where material is made divine.
Her smile, her inner-flavored melody and words Sabina always fresh, mixed in an invitation to cry that calls to be discovered, in exchange I'll be here sitting next to her voice perceiving colors not imagine existed.