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The wind feels like Japanese knives under cold water. Still, women names are murmured in every single corner.

And then, out of January blues, the beginning of a new month: everyone calls in a sickie.

Days seem longer, for different reasons.

I left you at the station

There's an echo: we have been

this place

here before, never the same way.

alike.

will never be

Profile for Ernesto Priego

Days of Flowers  

A hay(na)ku chapbook.

Days of Flowers  

A hay(na)ku chapbook.