Death Quote by Victor Terán
““...Console my soul, clumsy air, spill into my eyes the deepest dream, a dense dream and distant like death. I recall the fingers of your hand, your bony fingers. My eyes choke for the moons of your lips. Your memory has me nailed to the lukewarm afternoon and I resemble the shadow of a body buried yesterday, a shadow that looks to the north, to the south, that seeks, without finding, the path...””
