Your body gives way to see the leaves of bougainvillea and perhaps think about the ephemeral, the futility of eternity. Perhaps he never thought of the eternity of your body that gives way to collect leaves from the curb. He feels that piece of beautiful color. Has provided close to your desk. Many years of dedicated to study and ended many leaves lose their color and be the dust that sticks to your cat's paws. A cat that jumps, nubile agile moves. Imagine remote capabilities. Their lack of adaptation and the logic of the architecture of your body: petrified. The architecture is a stone. No roots like him. Never ask for that family that forced him to proscribed from south to central Mexico. Ignore the one in the north and to the sports pages in their journals. And at its center, ie, where he formed an object is anachronistic. Your senses are languishing, are the mask to go unnoticed. Keep watching the page, the color faded and the smile on his face. Ever his laugh was the seed that planted passion that loved women, and men that desire to burn and subvert the ideology. There is now a ruin that will shade and fertile soil to lift another architecture. All falling like leaves. All moving as gruir of your cat. Needless to cling to nothing. Nothing is a car down the street, nowhere is it embedded in looks, me doing nothing clicks clicks clicks
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