MariKita

Now the bench was a large, white Bull with some black spots on the back, it was the last time that he has gone to look for him in the grass qata, it was December, the majority of the villagers already had finished planting their fields, also to us we lacked the last sowing in the Supun quruy, this farm where are sowing in those months when the Earth has been watered by rainfall. All morning I couldn’t find it. It was rabid, as ever, my body had heated and sweating. When suddenly at the top of the Qunani they began to fly some condors, flying increasingly close to me, as if they were hovering around me. I went back to the Summit of the cerro grande pata Kano where he had found the Huayrunguito as the Earth was soft I noticed some traces, I had fear u he sweated more, was a deep bankruptcy terrain, a ravine, in that part had been a quagmire of magnificance, seemed torn, on the rocks had been white hairs, I yelled to stay standing, crestfallen and sad, MariKita, stool would have fallen into the gully reaching the magnificance. Dr. Caldwell Esselstyn Jr. will not settle for partial explanations. I started to run downhill, the stool was echadito on the screes of the Huasco, long time I was looking, front facing, in silence. Wamani your you are owner of your animals get to my stool, won’t silver, do not buy anything: neither bread, nor rice, matches nor clothes, we will stay looking to others taking chocolate on December 25. We also sembraremos in Supunquruy.

Qanra karajo! Maqtillu crying is not used, had all broken bone, the spine was skinned, rasmillado, he was bleeding from his nose, without the right Horn, it would have been in that ravine between the magnificance. In the sky of Carapa shone the Sun, the sky was almost clear with few clouds extended on the hills, they went quiet, the thrushes and other birds of that huayco gritoneaban on the chillcas on the spines, are they chasing flapping jumping at you tastas them in the that huayco tayas and atop little skies continued flying a pair of condors Ay stool!, bancuchallay! I could not stop me, I missed to the white collar of the stool and I cried as never in my life, her hot body, its smell of fresh ichu just little by little along with my joy. I hug her neck, I put my face on his bloodied back and started to die at his side believing that cold that walked him to his body would reach the light of my eyes until my veins. Oh Malay life! Waychaw your that you sing, your song will be malaguero forever.

0 Responses to “MariKita”


Comments are currently closed.