Cada vez, cada hora. Una cortina de humo surge entre nosotros. Nos espera. Nos tumba sobre falsos recuerdos que no llegan. Mientras, recordamos en vacío, desnudos entre la noche. Y si vas a venir y perduras, más valdría limpiarnos de sombras, hacerlas correr por el agua, patearlas, destrozar su duro esqueleto como a un animal arcaico, que debe desaparecer en el vacío de los tiempos.
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