connecting words (3) I found the letter this morning. It was inside the last locker of the antique and outworn cabinet in an obscure and frighten room, were it used to be a bibliotheca. Everything went down since it came to a new evolution society, now called a digital-virtual society. I opened the locker and took a piece of paper inside the envelope. A tear fell down in silence above the trembling and confused hand. That text was passing through my mind like an arrow. Visualizing the scene where places, personages and objects were playing with me. It was under my skin; that was an emotion with bristles sensations in all over my body. It was like some moments ago, that I call very real transformation. Maria was sitting in a botanical park, four blocks from my house, near to an antique church. It was right away I left her when I moved to Cuba. She was writing with her tiny fingers a poem where I would touch with my lips. All my five feeling sensations were there. I was watching her hair bounding through the cold wind of autumn. Sited on a bench she was waiting for someone who could substitute this letter. But, she was too frightened and insecure to do this change. Maybe this will be her last letter... You might call nostalgically pathetical feeling. I steel view ahead all of this things a human presence instead of static result. What a strange sarcastic joke… It’s true, we’re not becoming robots but we are close to transform ourselves from homosapiens to homorobots or could you call better? It could be a human species in transition? What’s next? ` P.S.: Please correct my grammar. Thank you for feedback A.