Through the glass: Plots of liquid love
The world, beyond the wet glass, is a breath of colour.
The drops do not veil, but break down the truth, painting the asphalt in rivers of gold and sapphire.
Love letters flow across blank pages, as they once did when distances were not so far apart.
And outside, the shadow with the umbrella, an island of black, crosses the urban aquarium, aware that life, like the image on the glass, is beautiful only because it is distorted.
It is not clarity, but the echo of a distant light that guides us.
