Eran inauditos los fragmentos de la vida

sábado, septiembre 18, 2021

 Eran inauditos los fragmentos de la vida. Fragmento yo, de mí, yo. Trozos que se atormentan perdiéndose en las fragmentadas calles. Fragmentos de lluvia cerrada como cortina de agua que refresca al amor. El correr de la nostalgia; veo el correr y los frutos de la nostalgia germinar en relucientes colores. Frutos evidentes de vida y jugo, sabor y naturaleza.

Senso, luego ex-isto como hipó/tesis.

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