I opened the door that overlooks the courtyard of my house and looked at the sky filled with clouds and a drizzle cooled my face, so I stripped me and walked around side to soak all my flesh and fouling the soles of the feet with mud and grass. I felt relieved, almost happy, almost free. I joined back to my house and closed the door. In my room had a smell of old clothes, old sweat, suffering painted on the wall, and threw me on the bed. Television became my best friend at the same time that drank calmly and in smaller amounts than yesterday, and I slept.
But I had a dream: had a paved and very perpendicular slope which I started to climb and had around old houses of wood, it was night, not raining and arriving at the Summit, I came across many green and black garbage bags lying on my right and on my left and about them many zopilotes savouring its contents, but I felt no fear, not even looked at me, it was as if not be me they perceive or as but them interested at all, so I noticed my view forward and watched a wide and clean and asphalted street of black. I felt peace, he had returned from hell, again was at home. The next day, I woke up much better, breakfast fruits and even drank a cup of coffee. Not baby liquor. I washed me. I dressed and walked out of my house. I walked through the city without fear, although a little surprised so much trash and noise.
I talked to a friend and he asked me where I was and replied that he was walking out of the city of San Jose. He invited me to a coffee. Then I walked and walked all over the city looking for a vulture, but I only found green and black garbage bags. Hopeful to find them tomorrow, I returned to my house and I took a fourth of whisky to sleep pure life, as he had always done. In my memory always recovered to the observer I knew inside me, I always wish that another time comes equal to experience not being alive and recognise it at the moment, is really wonderful and unforgettable. Now bebo thing acostrumbrado, but the crows and the zopilotes needed me. The end.