Navojoa, Sonora. September / 2/2004
Time flees in my eyes, I can not dream and the body repeats its scents. I'm not the same and I copy every day. Without crossing the door, I do not find myself and assign to the taciturn turn of the earth my ideas. I will not stop at your lighthouse, I ask for another shore, some landing to remind me who I am.
Reynosa Tamaulipas June / 19/2002
And in the white corridor, the crickets love the sweetness of the night. Naturally, like all the bodies that come down from a woman, I swing the lights of my skirt and its olanes. A one step I be of the planet and I do not reach it.