My lips, wine stained, remember the brush of eucalyptus leaves. If you must know me, go back in the past. I am over. In the present, surrounded with only memories of sand, I only remain.

There is too much water here. Sometimes, I miss its absence.

To remember water.

I try to remember what it was like to remember water. How do I live in the presence of my memory?

In these rains, I live in the memory of the desert.

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