From her world he only knew of the weight carried on her shoulders, framed in the plasticity of the word from which she seized the days. Destiny was turning itself in an accomplice and the inner will to draw her body, loosing himself in the sweet curve of her eyes, a in short pause, realizing in a flash of childhood memories of explicit arithmetic where Mrs. Ruth often divided baskets of oranges, collected kings of Portugal in the history and geography book or in the manifest fear of heights…See More

In a flutter, the breeze waved him by the window where he spent blank pages, nights, unwrapping silence within words, looking at the stars. Cryptic, death whispered him that to fall into her arms was to live like a star, shining, good rather than bad. There being no sins to atone neither great nor small, he…See More