Love in English

Fuckface. A face that likes to do sex? Doosh nozl? Shit biscuit? Duck butter? Bananas. Like “crazy”? If I had to pick a fruit that is crazy, I’d pick pomegranates, with their juicy beads hiding in impossible recovecos, from which it takes an hour to free them. If that’s not bananas, I don’t know what

Because words aren't really just sounds scribbled down. They are the whole thing that they stand for. Collecting words is collecting little bits of life.

Maybe life is like this, the moments that come, not the ones we try to make.

Meatballs. Sometimes English does just tell it like it is.

Recipe for Disaster: How do you get an apple in your eye? Just how easy is pie? Who would eat crow, Or eat their heart out? Or how could anyone eat enough hay to eat like a horse? How can a potato sit on the couch? In a world where so many things are confusing, Even food, I dream of a day when it is a piece of cake.

He wears happy well. That is a new expression I have learned. To wear an emotion, like it is clothes. I like it.

In Spanish, 'estoy' gives you a way out. Here, 'I am' makes everything sound like an identity, not a thing that can pass, like in Spanish.

My family is not running a marathon. We're running a relay. My parents have gotten me this far. Everything I do is to get us further. I carry their hopes along with my own.

I lack precisely the thing to explain what I lack. The words. For every word I get out, there's a whole iceberg of thoughts and hopes and feelings that stay unspoken. But how do I speak them?

Sure.” I say sure like, whatever. But I feel like ohmygod.