as usual in this whole story that surrounds you and me, I do not understand anything and I still do not know what to do from the little I understand. The week is very thick. silent morning, exhausted by heat, and quiet nights waiting motionless in the air, not to mourn.
you imagine walking the street who has traveled since long before I arrived. I imagine running through it again to bump into me. like you did every morning. the first few weeks I get here. I remember as an invention of mine and nobody else, is that no one calls your name, not even to refer to you.
is that I have thirst. I have thirst to see you, hear you, knowing of your existence was not a sanity check fails inención. I have a thirst for your arrival, what
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