Hoy, 17 como cada año.

Memories living presently, carrying our experiences to new life, making the past to count, increasing the magnitude of all previous steps.

For all those times our voices were silenced and for all those paths that were erased. To continue, to finish. To still in motion.

Wrote that as my coffee was still hot and the sky was still dark, the world was asleep and my voice was still quiet. Rain of thoughts and unclear ways.