When I don’t sleep, I work. From time to time I take a break, to rest my eyes, I go to the window and search for the moon. Most of the nights, that shiny gold cheese rests in the sky, like an old man, and speaks to me words that have never been heard before. I like him and, probably, he likes me, too. But sometimes I can’t find him. Perhaps he’s busy, perhaps he’s tired… that’s why he covers himself... Read More
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