We missed the sea, the waves, the instant
We missed the contemplation of the tears and the laughter of children
We missed the sun falling on the horizon and the face of a slippery moon at night.
We lost again to step on the wet ground.
We missed falling into the depths of madness
We missed the freedom of going naked in the forest.
We missed the snow warm August 1 and the desert aimlessly.
We missed the color of other races and speech other men
AND die buried by the daily dust residues
eyes blinded us.
Poem Andrea Bernal - (Salamanca, Spain)
can enjoy more of his creations on his blog " If on a winter evening a traveler "
Portrait: Pablo Picasso - Portrait de Françoise 1946
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