Compartimento 13

Ahora vivo en un sitio de techos altos, cemento bruto y luz natural. Al lado del campo, los pájaros cantan, los coches rugen al pasar. Hay un par de goteras cuando llueve fuera y un gato pardo que viene a buscar refugio en mi puerta, bueno...si la hubiera y con él pesa menos esta soledad. Tengo arte moderno vistiendo mis paredes, la firma del Muelle en la esquina de un mural. Cartones ajados me cubren del viento, algún día será mía la tele de dentro. Me digo a mí mismo, me miro, me miento. Y hambriento me absorbe el frío invernal. Agnes Hightopp

Yesterday there was snow. On the ground and over our heads. And higher up stars. Never thought they could coexist at the same time. The snow and the stars. Not so distant in the end. Both familiar with the cold, both white, both bright.  And the wind howled to a hidden moon, caressing every standing thing in the woods. As I hugged the old pine, and realized that I grew older still. And the wind picked up, and I howled back, and a salty drop froze over my cheek, such a shame it never got to reach my smile. Never thought they could coexist at the same time. The happiness and the dispair. Not so distant in the end. Both familiar with this heavy heart of mine. But for a second I could only see one. Above the snow, above the stars, the hopeful joy, so bright, so bright. Agnes Hightopp