delsilencio Surrounded broken by the sound of cars eleven floors below, on the avenue, runs this morning. A amanecersolitario permeated the atmosphere of other Sundays in the alegríadejaba its trail in the hours, minutes, changing the latter of which passes unchanged untiempo, watching without comment, without mourning, sinesperar. If you could have one wish, it would, that would have made my unsegundo eternal bliss.
A leaking such as water cuandoquieres hold it between your hands. crushing loneliness this morning that my life is turning into evening, warm, of which once enjoyed with you, when we shared the frescuradel air conditioning, locked in the room, watching a movie, quemuchas sometimes left in the mists of dreams. Stretched hand and you were there, always, Togetherwith me.
From miatalaya I witness what my senses perceived before and nothing esigual. Even the sound of the cuckoo which now dictates the hours as they please, as if it had conspired over time to tell me that nothing esdeterminante. Is life it? Quésucedería "if I close my eyes and reopen it? All would be well blockers, but it would be a different time. Hey, do you hear me?, Can you see me?, Do you feel how my heart breaks? No.Even though you want to believe that if you do, I know not. I went to see the bronze plaque pusieronsobre your tombstone and I felt nothing. Was unlugar outside, surrounded by other bodies in the same situation. It is here on Sunday deotros atmosphere permeated your company, where I have wanted to mourn.
B. Miosi
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