At night my son wakes up, we must seize to change. It out of the cot and sits on my shoulder, but not with me, find the mother who is prepared in the dark. I take it to another room and the light bothers you, so I cover it with something and work in the shadows as quickly as possible, I open the clothes and see your skin, is warm and open a pod full of seeds that are dried and wither.
constantly repeats a word he says since he was born and that is their cry, a cry not of any child, is a two-syllable word that means nothing with which cries talking. It is a cry that almost paralyzed me poor and the stranger that causes it.
change When I finish it up and took him in the dark and guess he looks at everything with new eyes that see through the shadow and the surface tension of tears. I assign special senses, sight, hearing, fine you know all the vibrations of the house, smell my breath afraid not, touch the skin testing of all new things to play with, like a wonderful human being that, if I could run away scared of the world that makes it unbearable to a fairy land below the horizon.
I leave it in the arms of the mother and both let out a sigh of relief when fine-tuned; I go back a step to be outside of that sphere, then I do not belong.
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