Summer

I immortalized you in a film that I rewind and pause, again, as many times as the rain that floods the streets in the late afternoon. I cry and blend in with the season. I chop all the frames. There's still a wisp of you on the ice-white ceiling that makes my eyes widen before I sleep, but I curse the heat.

Text available at: Microconto de Ouro / Casa Brasileira de Livros