How To Dress Like Eor

Con una caricia tus manos recorrieron mi sucia cara,y me miraste fijamente a estos ojos que reflejaban ese mundo al que estaba sometida,me había quedado sin pan,pero you, I'd extended your hand and you've invited into your home. Lowered your gaze and your hands clean and pure left to sink my face in the paper. Gently lyrics were flowing from that pen ink as if it were magic ... our world is magic right?. .. were sprouting words, words I could not understand, written in the language of the rich. I was sitting, watching your every move, each arching eyebrows, every half-smile that I do, without knowing it meant to you, nor because I'd saved from terrible poverty. And time passed, and your magic was spending his ink pen slowly, but your hands are not tired, they worked on your new work ... "you write about love? ... slowly finished with one of those pages full of mystery about which you wrote, and came back at me, inviting me to sit in your arms, but my clothes were black, and would not mix my dark aura as pure yours . But you came to me with your hands caressed my body, holding my hand and invited me to sit beside you and started to read me what you wrote so looking like a medieval minstrel telling a story in question. And I listened, but did not pay attention to his words, but his voice, gently caressing my ear wrapping in an environment that existed only in dreams, and you were finished narrating the words I did not want that final moment, and imagine that both spoke sky should resemble your voice that I had died and this man forward as a writer was nothing but God himself. And ended up with fine words and you invited me to take that pen that had written letters so magical, and your soft hand grabbed mine, and I did write, making me realize that I could get that instrument reserved to persons of high category. And the days passed and I let go of your house, feed me with your kisses and warm inspired me sleeping next to me. You taught me to read because it promised me that first day I would also be able to read your beautiful words, I also teach writing, as I whispered that someone so beautiful should be able to write. And that day came, when I took that paper, written the day we met, the day I saved and started to read, helped by your hug and your words of encouragement

"and that day, a peasant woman with blue eyes like the sky, but blinded by poverty, he came across in my life, snatching the heart, leading me to discover the magic of the much-needed inspiration, making me dream about her smile and her sweet cheeks dyed black, and tears as transparent as glass, but promised to save his heart and warm your soul, to dwell, since the world had been denied a life she deserved, as I was destined to live mine "