|x|

He did move her at least to take one step further, and from that time on she began to send him the veins of leaves dried in dictionaries, the wings of butterflies, the feathers of magic birds, and for his birthday she gave him a square centimeter of St. Peter Clavier's habit, which in those days was being sold in secret at a price far beyond the reach of a school girl her age.
- Gabriel Garcia Marquez

|back covered|
|eyes fixed | horizons on horizons|
|nails peel back as far as always|
|stumpy finger tracing the thread|
|to the bottom of the lake|pond|ocean|
|and underneath the muck | and burrowed animals|
|another horizon|
|a body somehow the same and bigger|
|thinking of something else|
|five|twelve|eighteen|twentythree|
|twentyeight today|
|a day too cold for floating|