have spoken. Are their voices whispering near the shelter messengers of the past. Undressing my present, my future warning. In absentia, waiting.
Now I remember who I am now desperately recover that lost girl who lived in the shadows of the shadows of pain. I close my eyes opened to the tide of fears to rescue them from disaster. To get rid of this barren world so different from what was reflected in her eyes.
have spoken. To squeeze against his chest and not let them go. Never again. Never Again to get involved in the purview indestructible, in his infinite wearily and stoic. To plunge into the honesty of their actions, in principle relentlessly.
And while turning the tape with hidden messages, the same executives, who had taught me and which I covered in the way, fragments of life reborn. A strange magnetism brings happiness, singing brothers, naps donuts, evenings tango, fine lines, indelible green chair. Perfume of violets, sunrises with pastry cream, masks and faces and stories of radical rallies, dreams of youth tried an Argentina that was not.
And the kisses of love eternal presence among you who perverted my dreams with a love waiting as fruitless not come to yours ...
recorded Are your eyes in mine, is the blue of the sky missed the grandfather, is the brown glaze in my ninth maker of a land that bore fruit.
keep talking. We wept, with the jets, with rapids unscrupulous.
Only then I am, and I become that. Lost, it stayed in me.
The little red dot of drawing rollers, playing alone, listening to stories, flying without objections, kneading Congratulations.
No, definitely the world is not like what I showed. Crickets No smile, no ratites cheese-eating ants help. No longer smell the bread, do not even try, there will never a glass of green milk, or mud cake with liqueur glasses. At no time Thousand recipes taught cook.
many threads will dream about being in your hands, Felipa! If even the most beautiful plants fail to be moved by your presence.
many grandchildren will dream lay her hands in yours in a thinning infinite way to school, Isauro!
are in me, are here for ever and ever, for the bad times lived, for the good and poor since then, for the honor that I left as inheritance, child of perennial happiness not to surrender, to both barren world.
I am this, this handful of fights lean on a rocky path without my sweater special threads, without touching, essential for breathing. Without a perfect world, no eternal love.
But I feel its light in every moment, their voices I live in silence, when deep cove uneasiness, how a pending wilderness river. Then I remember that I was too happy for times like these.
disproportionate inheritance desert a beggar becomes a millionaire every time that inhabit their elders.
