walked by one of those streets that cut through my skin, feeling like falling on my ancient golden stone houses, I saw before me the silhouette of a veiled woman in the afternoon sun. I walked the steps that separated us with the certainty that those lines would Hellenistic mine. And when the light withdraw the veil that hid his face I knew that this woman knew her even before her. That silhouette at the bottom of the street, that face of huge black eyes, was the image of desire. And his supreme body sensual and voluptuous aroma was the bed of my greed. But the grin on her rosy lips was the beginning of the end.
I wanted a woman when it was not mine, while it was not mine. In her arms, savoring the sweetness of the soft skin of her hips, I felt the bile in my mouth when I was aware that it was mine.
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