Diego: Nothing compares to your hands, nothing like the green-gold of your eyes. My body is filled with you for days and days. you are the mirror of the night. the vio-lent flash of lightning. the dampness of the earth. The hollow of your armpits is myshelter, my fingertips touch your blood. All my joyis to feel life spring from your flower-fountain that mine keeps to fill allt he paths of my nerves which are yours.
pag 34 “The Diary of Frida Kahlo An Intimate Self-Portrait”
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