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16-ene-2009
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Salt
I take salt through my fingers and I feel a swarm of men raising assassin’s spots crossing oceans of infinite uncertainties Salt with all its whiteness does not pronounce the blood poured after its aroma of the sea It never invokes peace on the very contrary it unveils shrouds over the heads of holy women Salt is cruel Lot’s wife knows it in what is still left from her heart. Paginas Patrocinadas :
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