On the morning of the Festa do São João, filled with angry macriação, and burning, mindless loneliness, Phoebe eats that very last hidden piece of lemon meringue pie. She peers through the front yard fence at the pile of wood for the festa bonfire. Forgetting her sad feelings for a moment, she slurps, "Tonight’s bonfire is going to be white hot." After eating the forbidden treat, her mind dances along the street by the fire with a donkey, a furry lop-eared donkey. He runs alongside her, his tiny hooves keeping time with the music that she wishes would fill her heart.
With hopes of inspiring you, I write with my heart on my sleeve, sharing emotional discoveries and on-going excavations. WELCOME! Please comment if you feel so directed.
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