La Llorona, the vengeful ghost, now haunts the waters of drip-brewed beverages, furious that her loyal patrons were unfaithful. And for what? The best hot chocolate in Philly?
I have accepted it—to live in forgetfulness of myself, For nothing here tries to remember me. I mean, each time I try to live here, the country calls me by a name, forgetfulness— Our ancestors were never called less of the earth and her world.
He insisted on going his own way. In a ferry made of stone. King of the mountain, he yodeled again and again. Snow is a hoax. Goats make good cheese. Bury me inblue.
