A word is always an exaggeration
of silence,
saying what you want to say
when you should say it
that prolixity, that punctuality of the verb,
is at least
suspicious.
gladly letting
the silence advance
as if it were day or night or snow
and one is barely a bee
flying in circles
fascinated by the flower that says nothing
and one who also
does not decide to name it
for fear
of breaking it.
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A veces leo.
Magician
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