Just not as many labels do not have
is that moment of waking up and being in a limbo, surrounded by pens and pads. And how does the sea in winter, the giant wave breaks. And you are born again, but with memories, what happened, what is happening. It's just that time. The overwhelming desire to return to nightfall, and I again clouded the vision and mix gently forgetfulness, ignorance, with the sheets.
Who writes your name in letters of smoke among the stars
south?
Oh let me remember you as you were then when
still existed.
Suddenly the wind howls and bangs at my shut window.
The sky is a net crammed somríos fish.
Here come all the winds, everyone.
Undresses rain.
Thanks, Neruda. Think
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