Metamorphose in anguish

I don't know why i went to Palacio Valdes st. that saturday 21 of July of 2007.


Under a white sky, a band of bagpipes is playing at the rocky gates of the church of San Xosé. I feel as if i were down in a hole; my wish to die is immense, as my bitterness.


People pass by such fantoms, dark curtains: my eyes get filled with the grey of the sidewalk: i get numb, as if my very eyes were a part of it...


I can't stand it; i just can't.
I see them walking like the doves walk by the park: obscure man in the crowd, where it's supossed you're goin'?
Nowhere...


Someone passes by, close: looks at me curious trying to discover what's in my mind.
There's much heaviness yet, i got to shatter this ancient skin. Yet.
Shatter it; to give birth to a new myself. This ancient heavy skin...


A myself who don't hate. A myself who don't cry anymore.