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The city came to perch on my shoulder.

I was seeing her on the horizon, nocturnal, opened by lights and wings, quiet, as if she were seeking the heat of the moon or the message of the headlights. Slowly I drew near to her, I finished returning. Granada in the shadows looked like a sleeping bird.

But there was a moment in which I sensed the tremble of her nerves, the abrupt agitation of dreaming, the call of a powerful instinct, a schedule's discipline. And all so suddenly. And she rose to fly, crossed the air like an arrow in flames, like a predestination ignited. And she came to rest on my shoulder, and she left her bloody kiss on my neck.

Since then I fear her with absolute surrender, as the victim needs its vampire. Pale, with circles under my eyes, almost bloodless, to the city I return still. I am he who appears from the shadows, who crosses the street, who loses himself toward a secret destiny. And I look at you for a moment, and I perch on your shoulder, and I bring my lips to your neck.


Luis García Montero
Translation by Alice McAdams

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