Every time I think of you, I imagine your hurt child. Every time I come to think of you, I bend down, hug you and take advantage of that close ear to say: it's time for you to leave. I believe you and accept your apologies. Go in peace, we owe you nothing.
The child-plague walks into the hills and disappears crying. Now it is the pistil sitting on some lotus flower of my mind. Let it not stop. Let the waves of calm lake follow and forget the one greedy for acceptance and lies. Become the soft stone that in a thousand years will be earth and in a thousand years, moss or air. You were already tears in my path and pain in your own flesh. It is time for you to be reborn better, not to distract the fluttering of the birds, the snoring of the dogs or the laughter of the thick sun coffee. May you not distract the child of the thousand and one crumbling and fictitious schools anymore.
Multicolored green. Try to travel light.