The sun came out dazzling,
leading her eyes to certain defeat.
He was afraid of earthly oblivion.
But he believed that people have a soul.
He believed in the dialogue of souls.
The fear of oblivion was something else for her.
He was afraid he couldn't offer
nothing in exchange for life.
He was afraid that neither life nor death had any meaning.
But this obsession of hers is bizarre, erratic.
He didn't know what to prefer:
The beauty of alterations or the magic of allusions?
The holes in your pigtail or your immense beauty?
And so he felt like he was on a train
that only moved upwards.
And it was a privilege and a responsibility
of the body to follow to the finish line.