From shadows and dissolving silhouettes, the morning rises, and between curtains of eyelashes, along a path paved with timid kisses, lips grope in the dark for a drop of dew that might condense their perfume.

And you said you would be eternal, like starlight... sempiternal. And yet not even starlight is eternal. And the only thing eternal is death.

Lánguida figura de nazareos rizos negros. Silenciosa presencia de escandalosos apetitos volcánicos, insaciables.