But now I think about that, you know, that being fucking a cute boy. I think about that and i think about being a poet or rapper or an artist even. It's this guy on one-two-five, Franco, he done painted pictures on the steel gates that's over almos' all the stores windows. At night you walk down and each one is painted different. I like that better than museum.
:::Push by Sapphire:::
Not pushing their feelings, letting themselves be borne along by the natural flow of their hearts, they reached a point where all that was left to do was set a wedding date.
:::One Hundred Years Of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez:::
Nenny and I don't look like sisters... not right away. Not the way you can tell with Rachel and Lucy who have the same fat popsicle lips like everybody else in their family. But me and Nenny, we are more alike than you would know. Our laughter for example. Not the shy ice cream bells giggle of Rachel and Lucy's family, but all of a sudden and surprised like a pile of dishes breaking. And other things I can't explain.
One day we were passing a house that looked, in my opinion, like houses I had seen in Mexico. I don't know why. There was nothing about the house that looked exactly like the houses I remembered. I'm not even sure why I thought it, but it seemed to feel right.
Look at that house, I said, it looks like Mexico.
Rachel and Lucy look at me like I'm crazy, but before they can let out a laugh, Nenny says: Yes, that's Mexico alright. That's what I was thinking exactly.
:::House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros:::
It seems that once in a lifetime we do encounter someone who grabs our heart right out of our chest and caresses it with happiness.