For those hidden. That we carry inscribed on the body. Body deeper than the forest. By chance, the wait was long. I was running strong. He tripped over the branches. Without grief and with encouragement. It suffers from saying. Of grief in words. Those that say I die of love. It took the pause of our borders. These bit the flight. They raised like a wall the love they got. Sometimes hidden in the shadows and an accomplice. Sometimes fierce shadows hid it. Accomplices of the thicket of flight.

SubIrrealism in a mirror. Random intratextuality.