Autumnal Comment
The gist of my story was a black reclining chair, but
where is the house now? Where is the fruit bowl with the old
invitations, the napkins that concealed our laughter. Only
the lamp is lit in the empty room, like someone who talks
to himself, ignorant of the danger or like a woman you never
knew, once you must have fallen in love with her
amid the endless loneliness of an autumnal day.
Libros Libertad 