Hablábamos del tiempo de arena, del viento que nos hace, del mar y de tus caderas. Siempre fuiste indefinida, con tus largos paseos silenciosos. Tomabas calles viejas. Andabas sin saber que se andaba. Las tardes solas. Los edificios miraban. Las paredes como sombras. Alguna vez que otra mirabas por una ventana. Cerrabas los ojos e imaginabas.
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