I leave your home to a world full of light and small tasks, already underway in a while. Leaving the cool shadows and frisky in your small apartment, not without a little fun and feeling of helplessness, I get a world suddenly bright and hot. The cicadas sing invisible in every corner. Noon thousands cups medium nap roller and desktops anonymous voices of mothers warm in a low voice, the sound of dominoes and secrecy of letters to the shadow with shadows on the table or half or milk alone or stained, what they call tag and never I have known what , plus some Cubata inevitable.
leave home and I realize that the long tunnel of the night I returned to this world and, indeed, could have done to anyone else. A world filled with, say, steam car or scooter locusts in greeting to the antennas, under an equatorial heat. A full daylight assaults me the terrible realization that in during these hours that we spent together out here, anything could have happened, the end of this crisis, nuclear war ... that there could have been, today, the chaos to come ; that, ultimately, if I know this town and its people is because at night, nothing has happened outside the walls of flesh and body fluids, mime and tender complicity with which we have raised. Nothing. At least nothing remarkable except that it is Saturday July Nosecuantos.
is time to return. Departure to make your day. I have the impression to achieve that I have to run a little on the platform. Your skin and your sheets acquire the force of cutlery and old bills. The duvet cover will make a respectful way, to take back the responsibility decent dress your bed. Meanwhile, I hereby give my first step outside on the sidewalk.
I leave the shelter of a vast abyss of depth that you acquire two rooms, the small palace of unparalleled luxury reality and the stable in Bethlehem ... ... what I ... This tiredness swirls gently thousand images in my head: Low the highest heaven, or maybe go up to the most welcoming
sewer ... ... and, shaking the scales, look for my car under the light of which, I say this sleepy astonishment, I had almost forgotten.
start and the machine responds with a purr so many other anonymous you hear distant from the orchards. And some, like a huge red shell on the road, through fields that resist the edge of town, full of flowers and bushes dry and this huge smell of chamomile which I received just outside your home.
The house has both slow to open up.
I raise the volume on the window and I let the wind caress the face of this new condition.
leave home and I realize that the long tunnel of the night I returned to this world and, indeed, could have done to anyone else. A world filled with, say, steam car or scooter locusts in greeting to the antennas, under an equatorial heat. A full daylight assaults me the terrible realization that in during these hours that we spent together out here, anything could have happened, the end of this crisis, nuclear war ... that there could have been, today, the chaos to come ; that, ultimately, if I know this town and its people is because at night, nothing has happened outside the walls of flesh and body fluids, mime and tender complicity with which we have raised. Nothing. At least nothing remarkable except that it is Saturday July Nosecuantos.
is time to return. Departure to make your day. I have the impression to achieve that I have to run a little on the platform. Your skin and your sheets acquire the force of cutlery and old bills. The duvet cover will make a respectful way, to take back the responsibility decent dress your bed. Meanwhile, I hereby give my first step outside on the sidewalk.
I leave the shelter of a vast abyss of depth that you acquire two rooms, the small palace of unparalleled luxury reality and the stable in Bethlehem ... ... what I ... This tiredness swirls gently thousand images in my head: Low the highest heaven, or maybe go up to the most welcoming
sewer ... ... and, shaking the scales, look for my car under the light of which, I say this sleepy astonishment, I had almost forgotten.
start and the machine responds with a purr so many other anonymous you hear distant from the orchards. And some, like a huge red shell on the road, through fields that resist the edge of town, full of flowers and bushes dry and this huge smell of chamomile which I received just outside your home.
The house has both slow to open up.
I raise the volume on the window and I let the wind caress the face of this new condition.
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