Nothing compares to your hands, nothing like the green-gold
of your eyes. My body is filled with you for days and days.
you are the mirror of the night. the violent flash of
lightning. the dampness of the earth. The hollow of your
armpits is my shelter. my fingers touch your blood. All my
joy is to feel life spring from your flower-fountain that
mine keeps to fill all the paths of my nerves which are
yours.
— Frida Kahlo,
The Diary of Frida
Kahlo: An Intimate Self-Portrait
