"(...) todos me dicen el negro, llorona, negro pero carinoso, yo soy como el chile verde, picante pero sabroso (...)"

Here I am again. Maybe there isn't anything worthy to be written about, but I need to try, right?
I have had the time to step away from those who I held has the most endearing. I have had the time to step away from nearly everyone. And it has been good. It has been really good.
Things seem to walk into the right rythm. Things seem to be getting right. And it requires the continuity of my secret, the continuity of my silence and state-of-nearly-chronic-absence. Things require more time to myself. More time to the true healing of my soul. More time to see the passerbies. More time to see the shadows.
In the end, I'm going to be a ghost.
The ghost walks the streets of the city.
He sees their smiles and their serius faces.
He sees the masks.
He sees the cigarettes (and inhales the smell of joints in the air).

I like to step the streets of the city. I missed that place a lot.

I missed what those changex have been bringing to my life.
Freedom.
Independence, again - total, not a partial taste of it.
I missed the beauty of being a mad grown up. I missed what more can be brought by the happier times. And it'll come. Or maybe not.This time, I won't weep regreting what I could've done.

Look at the passing shadow. Fell the cold breath on your neck, the cold lips getting warm in your lips. Feel the glory. Feel.

Just feel.

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