Salt made from human tears draws me to the portuguese poet Fernando Pessoa.
Oh salt-laden sea, how much of your salt
Is tears of Portugal!
To cross you, how many mothers wept,
how many sons in vain prayed!
How many brides-to-be brides remained,
So you were ours, oh Sea!
Was it worth? Everything is worth,
If the soul is not small.
Whoever wants to go beyond (cape) Bojador,
Has to go beyond pain.
To the sea gave God peryl and the abyss,
But in it He also mirrored heaven.
No need to weep anymore since geese have escaped their dutch holocaust, a country with its own toilet throwing royalty. In France the last producer of berets was saved. But what truly is a unbelievable is the self stirring pot.