Here I am. Sitting in front of the sunset, against a time goodbye sun says goodbye to the dance of the clouds that try to dress it in vain.
Here I am. No more baggage than my myself and no other paths that mark the steps of an hour without a minute.
am by the grace of God, alive, not knowing if I am, trying to place in each piece of my mind the memories which seem gone after the sun sets on the horizon.
But what say? Why this ride the gloom? How many others and in many parts suffer even more than I and for different reasons? Perhaps
dear hour, the matter is this silence from the inside, although my mouth to talk and talk, my soul is silent.
Perhaps it is, I tend to instinctively hands and find the void, Honduras space, empty chairs, solitary sidewalks.
Maybe ... I do not know is because the years stripped my shortcomings and who fell skin ... I thought he was.
hour without a minute I write the truth, or understand the world of all words, why you write, do not even exist?
Wandering into a space alien, goodbye to you,
I
which has reached the threshold of time.