The butterfly of mine
Butterfly, oh butterfly. How I love you my butterfly. I see how the wind blows and you remain strong. Butterfly, oh butterfly.
This is a section dedicated to creative writing. We want to offer a space where imagination has no limit. We want to create a place where imagination is stimulated and we are always thinking out side the box.
Butterfly, oh butterfly. How I love you my butterfly. I see how the wind blows and you remain strong. Butterfly, oh butterfly.
I had no memory of my life before. How is this possible? This is my question now and forever. Then,
No tenía memoria de mi vida antes. ¿Cómo es esto posible? Esta es mi pregunta ahora y para siempre. Entonces,
Dance, the movement breathes through the body, my body. I just want you to dance like a burning violin. I want you
Baila, y deja que el movimiento respiré a través del cuerpo, mi cuerpo. Solo quiero que bailes como un violín
¿Deberíamos temer? Esa es una pregunta para la eternidad … y una que probablemente no tendrá una respuesta en el
The cowards hide behind the rules – Jean Paul Sartre – Should we fear? That is a question for the
Many things have said and done because of faith during the years. But, does anyone really know whta it is?
I was afraid I would see nothing at all. That I would get there, and not be astonished by what
I ask my self.. does it matter if the fields go dry? does it matter if the rivers run dry?
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