Once I heard from my mother that she remembered the nights when she could hear the voice that scared her whispering the versus about the death. She ignored them, apparently as well not enough defined to have an answer. After the violent silence of absence she was falling asleep again. Into the kingdom of the most spectacular adventures of your life. Into the freedom of space behind the closed eyes.
Lately she smiled with a grimace when I told her about my anxiousness.
I didn't try to explain. I just fell asleep again.
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