ran into his arms, I remember ... damn rain stops ... I imagine every inch of skin ... but only tears ... my head goes through the rain, as it my body ... cars are still intact ... always with the same image to come and go ... Which could be my fate? ... repeats that question as I count every second from the pedestrian bridge ... would be cold to do it ... would have the courage to leap and dreaming that I fall ... wet dream in the breeze on the short trip from the force ... give a cry that stops the dynamics of the rain ... as a claim or a motion for lost hope ... without force, without a fight I hold onto the railing and I tend evicted ... I announce my tears, leaving behind anything even this damn true ... all ... leaving everything ... I feel in the air breather and comfort of the death ... I walk her hair back .... I get up and jump a vacuum pmediocre and filthy ... Laj
Hakkinen, Mexico 1982 
