
Broteja fruits de tardor i es deixa caure en pous gebrats. L’estiro per una punta del jersei. L’abraço i li frego les mans. L’acotxo, li acosto la tisana. La ciutat i el metro plens de gel. Vull viatjar al sud, a la terra de foc.
by Aldo Costa ··················································································································· the blot és la taca de tinta i neix en algun punt de l'Orlando de la Woolf. Són anotacions intermitents, perplexitats i apunts del natural.