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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2006-03-03 | [This text should be read in espanol] | La piedra golpea la carne buscando el alma, no llega. Filosa la vida, con saña, se hace carne, entraña, la destroza, vuelve roca el hueso, carnoso el barro. No mueres, solo te olvidan. Hay dÃas en que la vida es más frÃa que la muerte. Está nublado y no llueve.
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