is the same wherever we are. The music twists, there are old people eating exactly mirrors reflect our image. There is some mystery, beauty scary because time hangs. For what reason I do not compare prices. According to what clothes to buy appear normal. We'll see you happy.
People choose or is chosen, he imagines high. Generated waste and memory. The kisses are exchanged for tickets currencies, devalued rewards are perhaps electric shock when you do not count. And then it ends. Striptease is the snoring, how to inspire normal. Here's all good.
No matter where is the hand at night. We are a city your hand and I, surrounded by millions of cities that make up the other, the other with their hands. How many have stayed with his hand and placed in the same position with the same intention? How many touted to the world the next day? How many believed sex drink of the night?
We are fortunate, however. As majority. We have a place, which is moving as a starter. A door and a number. The name of the place that teaches us to admire the wonders, and avoid the misery.
Ramiro Text Gairín of prose poems "The sea in the mailbox" finalist "Siltolá Island." Stock
Ramiro Gairín you selected "The World" in its online edition on the 125 anniversary of the Brooklyn Bridge.
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