then lost on the way back, walking with eyes forward, arrived.
He left himself and looked around. The world had come full of people, people returning from somewhere or many ... some returning from everywhere. From outside I saw other people, but stopped seeing himself.
Each time a person felt watching him change ... as if the cast light-colored eyes, his body magically suited chameleon game that when those lights were directed to him.
Everything seemed tinged with a color that was once elegant and somehow had become stale at the same time as if it were already a memory of something that was nice, but now was wrinkled and wet ... rotten. As I passed a mirror was found empty, no eyes in their sockets, no heart behind the ribs ... but with a feeling of fullness, laden contradicted everything he saw.
In his bald head was a small ring and to remove a door opened off like a trunk full to bursting, a thousand things went flying but others were in some hanging from the door . Little by little, as if the scarf was a clown they were taking whatever was, was old. There were things beautiful and ugly, but they were all like without color. There were sounds that smelled, pictures they knew, likes to be seen ...
According removing some things would be realized that many were not his, he sat down and started sorting. Away which was hers, only three or four. The looked like someone who has a treasure and keep inside again ... the rest is saved in a different box, small, less important and put it in a corner.
As they entered, he saw that he was breaking mirror as if to reflect the image rejection was forming, as if that place could not be a being like that and was not the first time I felt out of place. Closing his head again, the feeling came over him that this was not his place, that every moment that awaited him was new and nothing that came with it was the same because the time is always different ... and what made it all special, all new, all exciting and start walking .
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