looking at the window. under the sun. where it ain’t burning. where the frozen could’t be killed. taking my hand from where it does burn. burning me inside the question about invisible components that make up connections between two bodies-skin, caring, solitude, company, necedad, history, patria, apatrida. trying to count out tiny pieces of misunderstanding and never knowing. nunca saber really why was it that it happened, why is it the gost of self sabotage hunting once again and again. como dijiste, it may be that I do want to be left alone, and take out the burden from me. queriendo todo, teniendo nada. ciega ante la consecuencia de los actos, acaso existen? do they?