did not tell me anything. Now guess how my figure would decline under the bus window, while he was away you on board. However, this would mean that you turned on the seat to keep watching, to note that body with limbs that was quiet and thoughtful, trying to find a way to find a place to sleep. It may not have occurred any of that, but rather as a person you sat in a catatonic state and from the moment your back is supported on the seat padding of the bus, forgetting became our common space. That's why I write you telling you that I have not yet home, since you left I have not had enough luck to get used to a roof and in the evening I walk through the center of this city which, together with its inhabitants, contempt every day, I stood before a display case numb and television soap operas I see characters going in and out of houses and apartments with the ease with which any of us breathe, and it fills me with indifference enough to know I'll spend another winter night under the dim light of these nights away. I write knowing that this is not going to read and ignore who I am writing these words.
Aszeta
0 comments:
Post a Comment