I Need Something To Keep Me Awake

Story of a woman gray (Part II) Story of a woman

Walked to the back of my department had a park, horrible, polluted and dirty. Full of garbage and earth. But hey still maintained its lagoon. And yet a couple of ducks swimming on it. I wore a coat that hides my very thin skin and a hat that belonged to my grandmother. I sat in the park to see the people, those crazy robots and autistic. Suddenly I saw one in the middle of the park. It was also an autistic automaton with a world in my head. What about the others? should also have a world on its head, would never know because there were no bridges that connect us. And to think that in that park my parents had met and fallen in love. At that time the city was still a village and organized kermesses. They had met and sworn to love forever. But 30 years later my dad left us never to return. What had happened in this world of shit? My mom did not let a tear and I cry in silence, I learned to smoke and I escape in books always promise happy endings.
I stopped and turned to abstract to reality. And there I saw it.: I was with a mostly yellow too and her skin was gray, the world we had gathered. We sat down, talked to a lot of things but above all feelings. He had not tried to try to remove the gray with carrots. He said he knew his skin gray and never again regain its color. I was more sad than me. The Jazz listening, not reading, not singing and not laughing. Just listen to jazz and smoked. Fumo waiting, he said. He shook my hand and told me not to seek to change things, it was in vain. I told him I knew, it was the carrots to get my color because my tears trailed down on a force if gray. She said that the tears do not matter, because nobody knew mourn, because he no longer knew was pain. After talking we decided that we did not belong to the world and if we had time to leave this world then we would be sought. We got into one of the boats were on the shore and rowed to the center of the lagoon. We sink in a bit, float a few seconds staring and then we dive into the water. We wanted a poetic death and got it. Then we find, with the look of stone, cold and ethereal. As our skin. But we would not be present.