There are no voices, neither words. The night begins to unfold its mantel over the city. It makes it calm, slowly, giving time to each star so that occupies the place that belongs them.

I go out to walk, without moving myself too much away from the streets more concurred, always a little fearful of whom could take advantage of the darkness of the low trafficked ways, for any "business" that would not report me benefits.

My head grew heavy and bended my neck. My eyes, sometimes, try to remain close when blinking.

I have time, too much. The feet hurt me. Do I have walked a lot, from the city until this mirador How much? I Think that as well as 8 Km. The wind blows cold, pleasant, but it begins to affect my head. What does he know of colds or things for the style? He takes care of only go from here to there, moving the air, and with it, everything at his pass, in an incessant vagrancy that, after so many millennia, should seems to he as boring as to me watch the pass of the seconds.

Around me all is dark. Occasionally, the light from the light bulbs of a car finds me for some instants and, as quick as it arrives, it goes, too concerned in following its way like to notice me, or any other thing that is not the humid pavement. But I don't worry about that. Whether does the silence that appears when the sea takes a breath in its work of chiseling the rocks that are against its advance. I worry about, because every time that this happens, seems me to hear steps at my back, and a whisper that I'm not able to locate.

I was almost sure to being alone on this rock, since in the time that I have been here, I was not able to see nobody else.

How amusing I find now. While I spoke to the wind, flirted with the waves and drank my beer with the stars, she observed me. Yes, to me.

She said that she suddenly saw me and found funny hide and play with me, calling me when the sea played silences, hearing me when I threw screams to the clouds. After a pair of hours, she got bored of this and she sat down to my side. I was so absorbed in the dance of the foam, that I didn't notice of her presence until I felt a caress that was not that of the sea breeze in my hair.

We spoke and silenced for hours. So prisoner I was of her voice, that I didn't see the arriving of the dawn. For then, she fell asleep curled up in my arms, and her face began to illuminate with the light that was born at our backs. My clumsy fingers and the graceful wind played with her brown hair, and a drop of dew appeared, mischievous, on her cheek, simulating a tear that crossing toward her chin, caressing her cheek, woke up her. She looked to my eyes, she kissed my lips tenderly and gone. She didn't allow me to go with her and I stayed, back to the sea, silent, stunned, seeing how she went away by the road. I not even knew her name, neither she mine. I was so drunk trying to assimilate what had happened that night, that I didn't feel the roar of the motor, the creak of the breaks, neither the blow that went through me completely, neither the fall, that doesn't never finish, even when my body is destroyed on the rocks and slowly is dragged into the ocean