Escribí otra cosa (tenía que ver con el elefante del medio), mucho más larga y dolorosa, pero decidí cambiarla porque me distraje. En la radio sonó esa canción y por primera vez la letra me hizo sentido: Luego me abrió su boca, como a la libertad. Tomamos unas copas y en el bar se echó a llorar. El tiempo pasó, fuimos ella y yo, dos en la ciudad. Paso, pasó; pasó nuestro cuarto de hora. Pasó, pasó; pero aún sabíamos reír[1].
Desde entonces, cada vez que el punto se acerca al borde adelgazo al elefante del medio. A ver si desaparece.
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In english (I wish i could talk to the ghost of Oscar Wilde. I want to know if he likes the kisses on his grave)
I wrote something else (that had to do with the elephant in the middle), much more longer and painfull, but i decided to change it because i got distracted. The radio played that song and for the first time the lyrics made sense to me: then she open her mouth, like freedom. We grab some drinks and in the bar she began to cry. Time went by, it was she and I, two in the city. It went bye, it went by; our quarter of an our went by. It went by, it went by; but we still remembered to smile.
Since then, every time that the point approaches the Edge, I thin out the elephant in the middle. Lets see if the animal disappear.
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Ficha Técnica de la foto en el microcuento:
Canon, PowerShot SX530 HS.
Lagos, Portugal. 2018.
[1] Fito Páez – Dos en la ciudad. 1999: Warner Music.
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