The end was that time when there was no mud or water jugs in the curbs. Why, if the wells were only hollow cylindrical artery and bled early, open land, dry. Dry wells.
Perhaps you remember. You also lost in the tragedy. Like me, like everyone else, like everything else.
Perhaps you remember. You also lost in the tragedy. Like me, like everyone else, like everything else.
stored water reserves not long in coming to an end. The reeds every day were less and less green that still resisted. We all know that if there is that there are reeds springs. What few remaining holdouts when it was counted by decades of drought! Perhaps the greatest of all, and maintaining life not yet fully extinguished, was the almost transparent trickle that ran between the stones of the Great River, which once had been really great river. The price of its banks was very much higher, what little moisture was still needed. Only by following the undercurrent from which emanated the main flow, could be extracted groundwater something not to die.
gardens home interiors - remember? - Land had pierced, pierced in search of subsurface aqueous. Dry powder appeared that and only that, but everybody tried.
There was a day I was walking aimlessly, only instinct led me in search of something wet to take me to his lips. That was when I ran to see how far some small branches that still pointed a greenish tint. You know how that story ends, yes, but it was I who almost does not count. Imagine you are running for the salvation you think the hand. Only the target view, you see more. So I did not see the big hole drilled in the ground and dug in search of trends that had not, the pit water. And one of my feet stepped on empty. I fell to the bottom. He was who I cushioned the blow. There was, handle peak in his hands, dead, rotten now. The old man must have vanished while searching for water by digging and digging the belly land, and now I had saved my life in the fall, although terror filled my eyes as well. If just thinking about want to scream, you will get an idea of \u200b\u200bwhat I felt when my body was embracing him. It was the drought that began one summer and did not know how long. A summer that filled winters. What do you think of a year through four seasons with little rain? They said the average rainfall, did not reach even one day per station. The life was in danger, was dying, you know. Became extinct.
Try to think what it would be a place where they are trafficked in the slums was simply water. So were the banks of the Grand River. The killings, abuse and crime came from the hand.
One day the sky turned red me, the streets turned red, the air was so red that I could not look at, among other things, because my eyes were also red eyes. After I did not hear.
Try to think what it would be a place where they are trafficked in the slums was simply water. So were the banks of the Grand River. The killings, abuse and crime came from the hand.
One day the sky turned red me, the streets turned red, the air was so red that I could not look at, among other things, because my eyes were also red eyes. After I did not hear.
Now, on the other side, trying to convince God to create men of clay without water, men do not succumb to dry and warm summer droughts of planets, human beings need not dehydrated water to survive. And gives me the strength to dare to be reborn.
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All rights © Angeles Fernangómez (text and photo)
All rights © Angeles Fernangómez (text and photo)
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