En Harlem, en un museo al cual llegue por casualidad, me encontré con esto, así textual.
The smell of your neck in August and tryingtomakelove on concrete
Somewuerebetweenforgivingtooeasily and not forgiving at all
The sound ofyou pullingthatpart in me
Waiting like you'll come back
And the hints of you caught up between my fingers
Adam Pendleton, "Concrete".
Pocas veces un cuadro me hablo tanto.
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