The creaking of the steps, results in all possible ways, too thin or too slow for all those unknown faces. The clatter of feet on asphalt elusive answers a call and light up the narrow streets as many legs as fleeing from the chase, the wind begins strike and to dump gallons of rainwater from the jaws of that crowd .. . and wash their consciences, some pure, some dirty, some ... just splashed rain water ... and after the procession, the participants will, each to the same place for which they have come to dig one by one in their own crosses.
0 comments:
Post a Comment