Peribanez: Casilda on the Wedding

Now where do I start, how do I even begin to say everything I feel without my heart breaking open? You make me feel more alive than anything in the world- more than dancing, the music, my pulse, feet racing, drum pounding, the drummer yelling and whooping with all the strength in his throat, my muscles aching from smiling happiness...

Your voice, the words you choose, lift me more than a Midsummer's Day- hearing the cheers come up from the village, smelling lemon verbena and myrtle.

What guitar that squeezes my heart could reach me as you do? In your 'how-d'you-do' hat? you mean more to me than my brand new shoes!

You're better than the best banner in the parade, better than the crumbly bread Uncle hands round at Baptisms, better than the Resurrection candle that never goes out. Out of a thousand boys you are the Easter cake covered all over with marzipan chicks and chocolate eggs. No. (She thinks, then she speaks) You're a young bull in a green field or a clean white shirt folded in a basket of jasmine flowers. You-you're my Pedro. You're you. That's it, I've nothing left to compare you with.