(to Ava)

When i hear that melody i see the labyrinth of my heart, the polished and irregular grey bricks building that world, stacked, and hardly holding this sad piece as one, there are streams of tears and blood, pumped, impetuously running along the paths of bubbling mud or soiled tar, and all living creatures are drenched, walking fast, head down inside the lifted flaps of their trenchcoats, the peachy deliquescence under the wet mantles, the frighthened animals, who are they?!, distraught in the endless, striding though there's nowhere to go, and black and white lure and daze you through the old parks and streets, where all that is loved end up, there, finally sitting by exhaustion in this miserable place, on sidewalks, on benches, on the grouped seats of cafés, smokes and drinks can't heal, as the rain fades away their faces and melancholia becomes their will to persist.