The Glix

‘…You are my chosen one, more tempered by winds than thin trees in the south, a hazel in August; for me you are as delicious as a great bakery. You have an earth heart but your hands are from heaven.You are red and spicy, you are white and salty like pickled onions, you are a laughing piano with every human note; and music runs over me from your eyelashes and your hair. I wallow in your gold shadow, I'm enchanted by your ears as though I had seen them before in underwater coral. In the sea for your nails' sake, I took on terrifying fish . . . .’– neruda’s final poem to his wife