Y tú, me llegas temprano en el umbral de las cosas. Escóndete, amor, en mis manos, en su soledad viva, en su nido, en su soledad creciente, donde el silencio se desvanece. Eso para olvidar, para que olvides lo anterior y no lo presente. Que no nos tome el espacio. Que las imágenes no nos coman. Que el olvido no sueñe.
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