Vows
At night, vows become ghosts.
Like in the past, they wander
the same streets and neighborhoods.
Leaves stir in trees
but the wind is still.
At night, vows become ghosts.
Like in the past, they wander
the same streets and neighborhoods.
Leaves stir in trees
but the wind is still.
At least it’s Violeta Parra, you say as you listen to the people above sing, “Gracias a la vida que me ha dado tanto.” Other times it’s been bachata, ranchera and progressive rock. We decided to put up with it, to not call the cops.
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