Most of the
time
Nobody
knows the problem
identifies
where it comes from or
has the
ability to name it,
even after death.
I asked my
grandmother
who
appeared more blessed than ever
in my
dream:
“What is
the problem?”
Horror in
her eyes,
porcelain smile
of her lips scattered into pieces.
I mean, she
lost her face!
I looked
around for help.
I wondered
if I could turn back the time.
I gathered
the pieces of her face.
I made the
puzzle.
I put it
here.
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