The Nails
Sometimes, I think of narrating all the details on a special hour: about for example this incurable disease that started on the opposite wall or about that woman in the park whose body was nailed on the bench and I say this without exaggeration; the nails protruded from her cloths like small buttons while her purse with her identity card floated down the creek that we couldn’t find out anything about her and as I went up to the loft which they allotted to me for the night I discovered they had moved and only hay was left
behind because they always had the fear of comedown and
there were moments when everyone anticipated the inescapable
and when the night fell serenely they quietened down because
the others weren’t going back and forth in the hallway to look
behind the far end door. For this I’ve stayed on the sidelines hoping
to rediscover that lost soul.
Libros Libertad 