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    3/9/2006

    Verano

    El verano es una estación triste en la que nada crece. Quien no prefiere el mes de diciembre pese a la amargura que provoca la felicidad ajena incluso la establecida crueldad de abril es mil veces más estimulante. La canción del verano es siempre la peor del año. El amor de verano es un subgénero del amor, del gran amor que nunca podrá tener lugar en verano, noches de verano, viajes de verano, bebidas de verano y con ello queda implícito un sutil desprecio. Nuestro amor no está hecho para el verano. Nuestro amor no conoce de vacaciones.

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