Evening at Home

Skin vessel hands of conscience the history breaks more for lack of maintenance

than because of the constant pounding against time.

Locked, naked, in cookie boxes, different, our home, that hell of imaginary words, poet's and movies paradise, How long will this confinement last?

The air out there enjoys our absence, on the streets, the plants shine, there is music of empty trains,

This is the end of capitalism,

If you have a puzzle, start it. If you don't, learn to play an instrument.

Nobody is isolating you. It is only you and your fear of time, You wanted freedom, you wanted time.

If you don't know what to do, imagine frogs, covered on butter, think of stones, and learn to pile them.

May the dread would abandon your body,

Today you breathe!

Learn to cook, once and for all, man, write letters, apologize to your parents.

Somewhere, rivers of transparent water still flow. Soft curtains inflate with the afternoon breeze. A fountain is still on. Children laugh.

Soap and dry towel soul, you are the light of your family.

As long as there is life, there is life.

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por Juan Rulfo Acuérdate de Urbano Gómez, hijo de don Urbano, nieto de Dimas, aquél que dirigía las pastorelas y que murió recitando el “rezonga ángel maldito” cuando la época de la gripe. De esto ha