is an unfinished house in the countryside. It has some other entire walls halfway up, no roof, no floors. The sun comes right through the holes and openings Unplaced windows. I'm kneeling, with my white dress that covers my ankles, in the middle of a room. Right there, my hands digging a hole in the ground. I have finger nails and muddy. I see the force while stones and garbage bag. There is a fund that never comes. Stir, stir, nothing. I have a gesture of anguish and a sense liberating at the same time. Something happens but not, fades, evaporates. I'm bored of the desperate search. I stop. I pace the room in its four corners, back to the center, look up, review with an eye colors; up blue sky and white clouds, green and brown down that brings the ground, everything is in order. What then? What Where does the weirdness? I look at the sun in front. Walk out of the "puertaventanahueco." I sit on the grass. I look up the route. No cars passed, do not pass people. I light a cigarette. I think everything that happened. I remember in the morning and the phone ring that woke me up. I remember not understanding anything, not knowing where I was. Of wanting my mother to come quickly to hold me tight. To ask to speak with her please, please. Not inhabit my body wanting more of the urge to move myself, memories of emptying my head. I remember the faces of all and fear, which never left.
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