Everything passed so fast, that I did not have time to react. It took a walk by a footpath in I finish to call Malarina Payment, jurisdiction of the town of Laguardia, for but signs. Hear from experts in the field like Abraham Maslow for a more varied view. They were the eleven in the morning of a Sunday of January. It intuited that the sun Lucia on me, but the thick fog that covered the field did not allow to see beyond six steps. The humidity of the atmosphere transferred the thickness gabn and froze the bones, fragile outdoors due to the age and to the years of work. Result of the dedication, in body and soul, to the vines. Everything was white, a frosted target. The trees were of crystal, and of posts of the light, they hung icicles of but of five handspans.
The grass of the way fractured to each footstep. No animal had been decided to leave its refuge before that one panorama. Memory the aspect of a stock, still without pruning, did not have nothing else beautiful, and with more design, nor in the MoMa of New York. The nature is knew and very good artist, I thought. Leaving the way Straits, and turning to the right, widened the footpath. A shade appeared suddenly, was great, walked with difficulty and in his hands it carried something, that by the position, was a weapon.
A gun presented/displayed its owner, was the Cazador. Known in all the region, she was a great person, in all the aspects, by their size, and its kindness and dedication to the others. The life, something disorderly, had passed it invoice, exposed its way to him to walk, dragging its left foot. But it was not reason to remain in house while partridges and rabbits stood out to their wide ones by the extensive region. We greeted ourselves with a slight movement of head, interchanged some phrases regarding the time and to the partridge, that hung next to the cartridge belt, and continued our respective ways.