jueves, 8 de diciembre de 2011


One day, she was writting in her notebook, the notebook which she never let anyone read it and he took it just to fuck.
-Give me, it´s not your toy!!.-She shouted.
-Oh! come on! Someday I had to do it!.
But the notebook fell off to the floor, and from the leaves left a photo. She began to cry.
And it happened what they were waiting for.... That incident brought them closer together.
-Yes, she is my mother, if I am here it´s not for other thing that her. Where I lived, I felt overwhelmed, I needed air. She died two years ago, of cancer. This was her favourite city. I know it like I was from here. And because of this I´m back. For feel myself like her when she went to here, free, for write everything and more, when she was in her dear Barcelona.
He didn´t say anything...Just he embraced her. And he understood some things.
And, obviously he fell in love a little more with her.

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