Only one of the two wings of the open window.
The accompanying Jazz of my mute thoughts that follow one another along with the pleasant aroma of flowers.
The rain and the dancing sound that gallops through it over the plastic of the air that contains them, uniting them with each other without being able to think of them as unique again, each one different because of the soul that lowers them, naked, from a full sky. Water like a magnet that gives life to a body, hypnotized if you want to recreate the scene of that moment, by the warm treble of the trumpet.
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