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All Night Long

Lying on the beach with the Walking Red Flag with him reading me Neruda in Spanish and English, kissing me, touching me, I felt like I was having a peak happiness moment.

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Seis Poemas Sin un Beso/Six Poems Without a Kiss

Amor, cuantos caminos hasta llegar a un beso,” the WRF read to me in his deep, gorgeous Spanish, as I lay with my head on his chest. His left hand held the book open, and he wrapped his right arm around me. My legs were stretched out on the sand and my upper body was on the sweatshirt he brought for me. “Love, what a long way to arrive at a kiss.”

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Everything Sounds Better in Spanish

Should I choose to have Neruda’s love sonnets read to me in English or Spanish first? Having to make that decision was a true champagne problem. In the past, it had been hard enough to get a man to read to me at all, much less give me a choice of languages.

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