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As túas balas » Blog Archive » borralla

Na tele conectan con Cee. Arde na Ameixenda e en Gures. Enchénseme os ollos de bágoas de bombeiro.
Onte e hoxe as rúas arrecendían a fume, nun dos olores que máis felicidade me causan. Encántame ese parfume a madeira queimada, a muxicas no aire, a calor e toxo ardido. Así que en segundos paso da desolación absoluta á alegría e outra vez á desolación. E regreso á alegría para ir apañar cinzas na noite, en bici, pola rúas de humidtown.
Lembro un poema que me alza a alma: toco á fin esta man que comparte a miña vida, e nela me confirmo, e tento canto amo, érgoo cara ao ceo e anque sexa borralla proclámoo: borralla. Anque sexa borralla canto teño ata agora, canto se me deitou a modo de esperanza.
Agora sei que, ademais, morreu tovar.


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