It's of those moments in which our fingers are moving as if it were a spider web that they don’t dare to touch. The situation is delicate because it's the minute in which we create the melody that will be heard on the day of our funeral.

It's on those soft moments in which your eyes are the colour of my first dream and my vocabulary breaks down in not finding a way to fill the minute in which our hearts are howling for it to happen. That the hands of earthquake tremors stop playing scared and start taking possession of the skin that they know is their destiny.

The second is fragile and fearsome, but it is now that we must risk everything and say: “This heartbeat I have heard before, this voice I have written it in another life and this moment is when I call you mine.”

TA.