23 of september of 2014 The twilight looming since falls eight, and the rain, the damn rain that it determined to tarnish the most sad moments that your life; it is seducing falling to the moon, wetting the street, playing whit the lights, running those roads where your hand, your body and your lips are the coats for this cold soul. It slides sweet and restless for the things, drawing the forms and cools the hearts. Its melody, like in the most mild sinfonia and the cold and humidity odor of the citys fiercely attacking. The rain of this night remember itself that it doesn't grasp to anyone, that neither land catches it, which dies when it falls. We are one and one thousand drops storm in this hard night.