To Verena Reinhart
We walked around the lonely streets of that city that has become yours now, Seville. The world was in our hands: San Francisco, Sicilia, some chocolate, puntillitas, cazón en adobo, chocos fritos, pinchitos, under the sky of one city that maybe was waiting for you. It was a pleasure to sit down with you on a beatiful Sunday in September and talk a little, talk for a while. The sun was a long street over the river and your life then looked like a sweet movie. There was jazz on our fingers and your lips were singing a lullaby. Life stopped for a minute, life and water, agua y vida, water, life, you forget yourself, everyting was nice, everything was quiet at the shore of your beautiful blue smile.