qué pensarán them young retro music lovers adictos al aroma del vinilo que gira y raya deep de esa vieja Joni sentada en un trono con séquito llorador.
cantando o intentándolo.
de nuestra euforia al verla. more or less whole while we all slowly die. or suddenly as we pretend to live.
y me lo pregunto intentando no pensarlo. we mustn’t. I whispered no we must not go back.
a la trampa del momento clave. shattered flesh who cares about heart as both sides now dug into us. deep. as we stood within the theatrics of rupture not knowing the end. porque el final nunca existe.
y entonces, what to do with a case… so full of you… and you, and you...
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