Many of the curtains were obscuring varnishes never his initiation into this underground world they were scheming a drop was falling down his long neck a dark fly came to taste it they dragged their eyes out to their own roots they cast, around them, gauche glances, lively and stunned, according to the subjects and their environment the almost gray eyes dilated almost exactly the thin lips contracted with a strange smile would like to testify to the place where they were in some phlegmatic place once the actions were concluded shrugged his shoulders as he left the scene which would finally last all night and extend until the next morning the nightmare landscapes of highways alone, they can silence the space they persisted in themselves To the west of the city improvised slings

By Carlos del Puente