Me mirabas y olvidé el día. Pienso decirte que estamos hechos de secretos, de secretos hechos con las marcas de la noche, esas cartas indefinidas, esas bocas del silencio, esas palabras clavadas en las calles sin nombre. Las cartas perdidas de nuestras bocas. Las letras abreviadas de nuestra historia. La invasión del tacto. Necesitábamos la oscura vida de los sueños, hermana de las sombras. La negra vida, el negro mar, la Luna negra.
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