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domingo, 14 de agosto de 2011

THIRSTY FOSSILS

 One day there was a sea here.
And the sea was never more.
Eternally fixed,
the seconds
chiselled its fingerprints.
Fossilized pain
in every stone.
Instants without a time,
sea with nobody.
Thread of moon
cut in the tide.

Here there was a sea.

A stopped time
fossilizes souls,
freezes feelings,
remains, lasts.

Here there was a sea.

Rocks remember.

 (From "The trip of souls", a book about paintings by Francisco García Torcal)

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