DIDO'S LAMENT

Eduarda. She had small eyes. Time will eat away at the length of the irises and the brightness. It had extinguished hope. By losing everything and immersed in this anguish, she had gained the oblivion of others. That they only knew of its existence through the roses of St. Therese, watered every day on the balcony. She could not remember a day when the dead did not wander in waves of light and shadow in the corridors of his house.

Living during the day became a copious dragging of seconds and gestures where alone she was lost. When he went to the newsstand, picked up the daily newspaper, bread and cigarettes, he didn't feel lonely. The days could only be different because they had different names and the weather conditions changed the perception of feeling them, nothing more. 

Only in the early hours of the night, just after dusk, did Eduarda cease to be alone with her thoughts. It was time to entertain souls, serving tea and scones, confiding in last-minute guests who were unaware of the cooling of their own matter. Eduarda woke up from the realm of sorrow at that time.