Diario de un interino en paro (IX)

10 y pico de la mañana. La dueña de la residencia catastral me pide que traiga limones de un huerto olvidado de la mano de Dios y de su dueño (su esposo, mi padre). La pulserita verde del SOS recela de los limones, sin ginebra cerca no son nadie. No somos nadie. No tengo palabras, como en los velatorios.

Coda: siempre nos queda la voz de Adela Peraita. Try, it’s not that hard, to try to stop, but you went too far, too far from you. Cry, let them hear you cry, turn your inside out, then we will understand, the other side of you Bodies hanging upside down, at the edge of the town. So you curse it all. so to hell you’ll crawl, fost and cold, far from any other road. You’re walking blind, one step behind, and where’s the spark, it’s just a glow in the dark so you curse it all Walking blind one step behind and where’s the spark it’s just a glow in the dark to hell you’ll crawl lost and cold far from any other road.