martes, 8 de noviembre de 2016

9/11 - DEL DIARIO DE SUZANNE FOSTER III



The rats run through the city, something huge was taking place that I can no longer understand, I’m scared. My dreams were clouded over with a brief, lethal cloud of dust. My skin peeled off. I am scared, scared for my soul that felt no sympathy for the people that died.

My memories are frightened away by the red humming that inundates the streets. The news plunged into mourning and the parasites were exalted in the unleashed morbidity, maybe that film from Hollywood was destined to fall in this way.


With a sarcastic tone, I had teased them, turned off the television and slept happily, because at the end of the day, something weird was taking place in the city.


Las ratas corren por la ciudad, ha sucedido algo grande que no logro comprender; tengo miedo. Mis sueños se ven obnubilados en una polvareda fugaz y mortal. Mi piel se escarapela. Tengo miedo, miedo a mi alma que no ha sentido conmiseración por la gente que murió.

Mis recuerdos se espantan entre zumbidos rojos que inundan las calles. El noticiero se enluta y los hombres parásitos se ven enaltecidos en la morbosidad desencadenada, tal vez ese film de Hollywood era destinado a caer de ese modo.


Con un tono sarcástico me he burlado de ellos, apago la televisión y duermo feliz, porque al fin sucede algo inusual en esta ciudad

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