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And I used to think about it every day
at every minute
and I don't know if its wrong, I don't even know if its wrong that I don't think about it as much now
but I often wonder where you are
the streets remind me of you
every time I see a plastic bag flying over the twenty-fourth floor of my apartment
a lonely highway. An unknown path
every time I sense the smell of a dead animal
traces of where they might have left you
whenever I see the leftovers of tires laying around
I wonder often if that's what remains of you
sometimes I try to be conclusive
You could be sustaining the ground. I like to think about that.
The empyrean, some kind of heaven.
where our own fear could drive us
thats where you are, its unbearable to think of what inhabitants do for materialism.
whoever said hope dies last is a deceiver.
Begoña Viladomat
Narration by Iñaki Viladomat