He was a person who could see clearly and feel deeply.
His clear sight and big heart led him to join the Revolution, to leave his work as a teacher, to leave the city...to make his way to the mountains to join the rebels and become a part of the resistance that would give the land back to the people again.
Gone five months, she had not heard from him.
This was the time she missed him most, the times she woke in the middle of the night with a question or a feeling to work out in her mind and heart.
She closed her eyes and remembered the night before he left for the mountains.
She laid naked on her back and he laid between her knees.
He kissed her softly on her thighs, his lips and breath against her skin.
With the kisses he recited a poem from Pablo Neruda.
Amo el trozo de tierra que tú eres,
porque de las praderas planetarias
otro estrella no tengo tú repites
la multíplicación del universo.
I love the handful of the earth you are.
Because of it's meadows, vast as a planet,
I have no other star. You are my replica
of the multiplying universe.
She opened her eyes again and stared into the darkness and felt a small hope deep inside of her.
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