Curse (Part II)

The windy arrival of the bitch named Spring suggests another change. Last year her presence seemed quite unbearable, since her ominous foreword featured an arid sunlight filtered by a whitish layer of poisonous gas. Far above a quite small blue floating saucer could be seen, even if it meant that the last redoubt of fresh air was losing room to the thick hazy stain. Trees were greener, though, as if those polluted, stronger beams carried an unnatural formula to grow them even healthier. The landscape never changed. In these latitudes it never changes thoroughly. It seems to last forever and it's enough to drive someone bored to madness. The sun always shines through this curtain of excessively warm fog.

It suddenly turns out that this bothersome tart never leaves at all. She works the whole year and ruins our views as she wills. She seldom goes off or takes some holidays and therefore, as she carelessly mixes memory with desire, she spares no one. The prolonged exposure to this radiation causes a disease that only rain can uproot. Only the forgetful showers appease all the memento riot she lets loose. Meanwhile, the cool oblivion of Summer mockingly blows from the distance, saying we have to cope with the torments his whorish sister has furnished. This yearly comedy has never made any fun for me, at least.

Yet, it seems this year she is not as strong as before. The air has gotten her ill and her attacks seem, so far, quite feeble. If everything keeps going like this she won't be as despicable as in the previous years--unless she had made up her mind to use another strategy and play dumb, and let the worst for later.

Anyway, I hope that oblivion comes soon. I hope my memories don't be reached by such warm stirring. I wish this whore died away soon.