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THE FOOTPRINT
The sea breeze pushes my shadow against the sand. I look at the ground, that instant of ternal fled. I see my foot caught in time: holding the wrinkled sand that outlines the trembling shadow. In the distance, where the beach is light, somebody challenges tge breeze: breakwater of sparkling caresses. If I look back, I see out in the coner of my eye the footprint that i forgot to pick up: I leave its luck to the voracious breeze.