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La Lengua de las Mariposas (1999) Una pelicula maravillosa! 

Wiki:  In a Galician town, a young boy, Moncho, goes to school for the first time and is taught by Don Gregorio about life and literature. At first Moncho is very scared that the teachers will hit him, as that was the norm then. But, as he jubilantly proclaims after his first day at school, Don Gregorio doesn’t hit. Don Gregorio is not like any other teacher, and he builds a special relationship with Moncho, and teaches him to love learning.

When fascists take control of the town, they round up known Republicans, including Don Gregorio. Moncho’s father is also a Republican, and his family fears that he too will be taken away in the purge if the fascists discover his political leanings. In order to protect themselves, the family goes to the town square to jeer the captured Republicans as they are paraded out of the court house and boarded onto a truck. The film ends with Moncho, despite his continued great affection for his friend and teacher, yelling hateful things and throwing rocks at Don Gregorio and the other Republicans as the truck carries them away, though the last thing Moncho yells are the words for the tongue of a butterfly, espiritrompa (literally “spirotube” or proboscis, in Spanish), a favorite word taught to him by Don Gregorio in an attempt to let his dear friend know that he does not truly mean the words he is yelling.

I have a really cute/cool idea of Eoti having an ant-eater/butterfly tongue. There thin face kind of looks like a Ant Eater? Not sure, I guess it may just be me. 

Also how can I make Eoti more sophisticated, smart calm dude that enjoys drinking tea. Why not throw on a top hat and a monocle(?) on the guy. 

I’m too lazy to draw his fluff right now, so it’s just his smooth body 


The fair was fun! I got to hang out with some butterflies and get a beautiful view of the parking lot on top of a Ferris wheel with these nerds: burythegravedigger konohasgodofcalamity

Those Secrets Now

there are secrets in the skin of trees
and the wings of butterflies
on the tongues of little girls in supplication
to the monsters of their dreams…
all wrapped in hope and sticky care
timid winks and gingham
Belgian lace and cookies…
and where are those secrets now
housed in mines from which no jewels breathe
no rubies nor emeralds nor sapphires…
on their knees before God, new faces raised
to the Monster of Their Dreams…
all wrapped in hope and sticky care
timid winks and gingham
Belgian lace and cookies
and the wings of butterflies

such is the secret skin of trees