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the and days are taking over the time of life. minutes engulf themselves with a voracious animal, the ticking of the wristwatch chasing me through the corridors of the university.

my cigarette is burning slowly, hanging on to her lips parted, consuming as incense in church. smoke rises up struggling in the warm evening. I can see the entire valley from where they are: the green of the trees thins out towards the bottom, turning into the uterus of rivers of asphalt and concrete gray. it is like watching a frame of a film classic and treated to restore color and brightness.

the library is emptying out because of hungry stomachs. the hinges are closed quickly and backpacks disappear from the tables whitish. hourglasses on the flat screens are the latest effort of the computer left on all day, then pitch black.

think about life before and life after, so I thought of nothing. is the moment when you understand the meaning of everything before you abandon yourself to the daily rhythm, again and again. the moment of truth which is the common denominator of each day and that takes you rolled up the blankets and the intense scent of clean, ringing in the dream when the eyes dart left and right without control.

people who come and go, without stopping. items that reassure you when you do not know what to do because they sound familiar and remind you of childhood. Faded lettering on the diaries of school as we were witnessing. the skinned knees on the asphalt courtyard: it was enough to blow, they said. that bad! the scent of freshly baked pie. the arguments for who should play the winged horse. your scent. your taste.

cars queued on the hill are still standing, are small and distant and remind me of nineteenth-century paintings, a sort of pointillisme . is a painting in which they are immersed without drowning. is a moment of perfection that disappears the moment when I close my eyes to try to fix it on the retina. when I try, again, is already gone.

put out the cigarette consumption down to the filter yellowed, the noise that accompanies my last day, and go down. between concrete and asphalt.

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six distracted by conversation with your friend, statuesque blonde tricks as a prostitute in altoborgo. every time he brings the cigarette to his mouth pursed lips colored and textured, drawing a look of disgust mixed with arrogance. the edge of her skirt merges with the neck of the Montgomery wearing. has nothing to do with your sophisticated beauty.

plays his laughter as lights and acute intermittent bright neon signs that have sponsored for many years the shop below them. Reply lightly sketching an embarrassed smile, as the first time we shook hands. I realize that not having ever heard him laugh, I have not even ever spoken.

the platinum begins to overflowing its invasion: that her anorexic body is swelling like a balloon aerostatic. How can you bear it? is flying a few feet from the ground. I would see good three feet below ground.

the bony fades quickly under the guise of lessons. you press three kisses on the cheeks rushed flesh-colored, pretending to be sorry. away shaking his hand and puts on his sunglasses in his hair. heels echoing on the pavement of the terrace soundtrack worthy of its release.

you stay there, sitting, watching the tip of his shoes, his eyes deep color of autumn. are breaking loose hair on the shoulders minute. cherry-colored lips moved by a snort. cross your arms, cross my eyes and raises his head to look at the sun. hesitated for a moment I lose myself thinking about what I would tell you. students spend lazy among us bored by the chatter of the teachers, must be finished the last lesson of the morning. the stream of people pulling me away when everything slows down. greeting familiar faces too. you stay there, to observe the chaos escalate and listening to the deafening clamor.

I guess in many ways, each time a different person painted with a touch of you is enough to make me smile. I imagine you busy and calm, sunny and introverted. appear suddenly in unexpected places and are a surprise every time. six of which do not reveal a magic trick and that continues to surprise every time you look. the end of each six melodramatic love story that leaves warm the heart. 're the cloud that plays to imitate the most bizarre forms while you look at it from a green summer lawn.

you get up and go jump off the steps of the stairs two at a time. I will follow you stunned by those who surround me and ask me what is wrong with me. disappear around the corner of the library with a touch of mystery. stare at the wall hoping that you have forgotten something, a stupid excuse to see you again. coffee, I need a coffee and a cigarette. I need to see you once again, to discover something more. to talk with more than four letters.

I yell something and I realize I'm terribly late. return to the classroom. started without me. I hasten to recall slamming pens and notebooks on the Formica counter. a deep breath before you begin. another, the last one.