moved slowly among the people, trying not to lose any detail of this short lasting magical show, each week vanished like a whisper between the earth and sunset. He had a superb collection of sunsets. No equal, all different yet approached from the same place. Separated by time, weather and decorated by the chance of those pedestrians who were walking without paying attention to that day, without realizing it was slipping.
remembered perfectly what purpose did you stop there the first time, when looked at that first evening of that place, on a river bridge. Wait. He did not, yet that evening he seemed more beautiful than any day. And continued to wait until the twilight gave way to the darkness of the night, dimmed by the artificial light of the lamps that passed over the bridge, beyond their gaze. It was a cold afternoon in late March. Held that did not culminate with the same doubts that have held their presence. The pleasure he had been ambiguous taste the flavor of uncertainty was so great that she decided to steal from that place every evening to come, with the intention to share on that day was yet to come.
remembered perfectly what purpose did you stop there the first time, when looked at that first evening of that place, on a river bridge. Wait. He did not, yet that evening he seemed more beautiful than any day. And continued to wait until the twilight gave way to the darkness of the night, dimmed by the artificial light of the lamps that passed over the bridge, beyond their gaze. It was a cold afternoon in late March. Held that did not culminate with the same doubts that have held their presence. The pleasure he had been ambiguous taste the flavor of uncertainty was so great that she decided to steal from that place every evening to come, with the intention to share on that day was yet to come.
(Inspired by "as a title: The Thief of sunsets," Forum for Neverland)
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