You were cold I blamed you You were dead I blamed me You looked mute I felt deaf I blamed her Or was I deaf? You were gone No one to blame I was alone With you still there. I went back home And you looked The other way.
A poem by Begoña Martínez. Am I a cat? / I bask in the sun, / I lay in your lap, / I find my own way, / I don’t like other cats.
“Scruple” derives from scrupŭlus, small stone. If you get a stone in your shoe, you’ll be uncomfortable. Today scruples make you hesitate when confronted with a moral choice.
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