Bats

I was courageous. I met her in that luminous moon night. There were lost bats in the streets of Lisbon. And the penetration of her body was a bird that carried me in trips for the mountain of the oceans. It’s funny that when we go in a trip departure we feel the heat of a stranger wind. It transforms us into nomads again. The headquarters of the wind flows can transform our remembrance everyday. I don’t remember when we lost this sensation of freedom of the body, sometimes, when the vagina exists in a pen of a miraculous trip, I them remember again. That’s why the sweat is an invisible book that recognizes the memories we will have in the future. Some time has passed since those days.