MÁS GRANDES, MÁS GOLFAS, SIN CORTES...

No volvemos, porke no nos habíamos ido, pero intentamos recuperar nuestra asiduidad

Algunas cosas no se pueden superar...

Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul.
Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth.
Lo. Lee. Ta.
She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line.
But in my arms she was always Lolita.